Gadget in Chains
by Loneheart
Summary: Finished: Gadget's evil twin, Lawhiney, returns to cause havoc. Before Gadget can confront her, they must both travel through some dark places and learn what it means to walk in someone else's shoes. Now complete.
1. The Redreach Mouse

**Disclaimer**

_In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone…  except a certain kind of lawyer._

**Chapter One**

**The Redreach Mouse**

1

Gadget Hackwrench, mouse, inventor, rescue ranger and "wonderfully sweet girl", had never looked better. The bright sunlight was doing things to her hair colour that would have made a goldsmith weep with envy and the crisp blue of her simple dress brought out every sparkle of light from her corn-flower eyes so clearly that even the people at the back of the crowd could see Gadget's gaze skip and dance from one person to another. 

The crowd was mostly made up of young males, some unattached, others with women folk clinging possessively to their arms or glaring from the sidelines of the celebration. Not every one would be sorry to see this beautiful celebrity leave on her mission of mercy.

Mayor Castlebridge, a tall mouse who wore a top hat in an effort to seem even taller and therefore not as overweight as he actually was, stepped away from the podium and reached out in her direction. It was Gadget's turn to speak. 

Gadget rose gracefully and walked to the centre of the stage. She took her time and was careful to run her eyes over the faces of the mice in the front row, which was made up of those mice who had worked hardest since Gadget had arrived. Coincidentally, they were all currently single young males, though not all of them had been single when Gadget dragged herself in the small town two weeks earlier, able to do little more than identify herself and tell them of the wildcat attack on a neighbouring township where the other Rescue Rangers were co-ordinating the survivors. 

Gadget herself had been sent to their town to get help, she had told them, but half way into the journey her improvised hang-glider had buckled in a sudden gust of wind and she had crash-landed. Forced to make the rest of the journey by foot, Gadget had driven herself onward for two days and nights without stopping. She smiled at each of them. 

"I'd like to thank you for the welcome you gave me a few days ago- when I arrived in your town alone and looking for help I was dirty, tired, battered and bruised. In the big city no one would have spared me a second glance except to shoo me away. Instead you welcomed me with open arms, picked me up from where I had fallen and helped me to recover in record time." Here she paused in thought and most of the crowd took a time to congratulate themselves on their kindness in helping strangers and their wisdom in not living in the big city. 

When she began speaking again the elderly couple that had taken her into their home leaned forward, interested. They had felt forgotten in the activity of the last few days and Gadget's many admirers had taken the best seats, leaving them with the last places at the back. Perhaps now they were about to be remembered, mentioned by name, applauded even.

"I wanted to thank each and every one of you, but that would take far too long- there are far too many people here today who have given their time and other things to make the terrible tragedy in the next valley so much better than it might have been." The old couple sighed. The young mousemaid they had nursed was right, of course; but it was still disappointing. 

Gadget turned her face skyward and brushed her hand over her eyes. When she looked back down again the crowd was deeply effected to see tears in her eyes. "Those poor, orphaned baby mice in the next valley. They're so young and yet there's already been so much sadness in their lives. I lost my mother at a young age and that was hard enough, but to grow up without any parent- the only thing worse than that is not growing up at all. Thanks to all of you these children will grow up! And they will have a second chance at being part of a family!"

Gadget gazed at the crowd with pride and satisfaction in her eyes. The assembled mice cheered. Gadget spread out her hands to call for calm and drew in a deep breath to speak. The town's mice fell silent, waiting eagerly to hear what she had to say- and a voice shot out from the centre of the crowd:

"Don't listen! She's a fraud!"

2

Later people would say that there was silence, but they would be wrong. Twelve hundred people gasped, gulped or said "Huh?" with in the space of two seconds and the sound they made doing it was not silence. Half the crowd stared at the young mouse maid who's identity was now in doubt, the other half turned their faces away trying to see the person who had spoken out. 

The voice had been unfamiliar, strong, male and angry. Who amongst their neighbours could have the confidence to speak out in such a way? And the angry certainty in the voice! Which of their neighbours could have come to know such a thing when they did not?

Those still looking up at the stage saw Gadget's face, frozen. Then she blinked as if coming out of a trance. She gave a short, quiet laugh that was probably inaudible except to those on the stage with her and then forced a polite smile on to her face. 

"Ah ha. I'm sorry. Who said that and whom are you referring to exactly? Are you talking about me?"

Some of the crowd who had been unable to find the source of the accusation looked back at the lady behind the podium. She seemed to feel awkward suddenly, but then again, who wouldn't under these circumstances? 

As if sensing that something would have to be done to get the show moving again, Mayor Castlebridge stood and moved smoothly across to the podium. He placed one hand on the closest shoulder of his honoured guest and leaned forward to speak.

"Would the person who said that please come forward and make themselves known to the crowd?"

Slowly, as the entire crowd shifted uncomfortably on their feet, a path appeared from the dead centre of the gathering. Looking a little like an ancient mariner from some long forgotten poem, a tall, yet deeply bowed mouse made his way forward. He wore only a canvass storm cape and a ragged and patched jacket that had clearly seen hard times lately, as had its owner, who took each step towards the mayor with great reluctance. 

Mayor Castlebridge surveyed the figure with narrowed eyes and a hard mouth. This outburst had come from a stranger, an interloper and, most especially, not a voter. He noted the stranger's ragged whiskers and unkempt fur, which and clearly been neglected for several days. There was something about the face that was vaguely familiar. Unsettling, almost. It reminded Mayor Castlebridge of someone he knew. Who was it now...? No, never mind. Time for that later. 

"Young fellow," Mayor Castlebridge began, choosing a phrase that would immediately signalled his disapproval of the stranger to those who knew him. (Which was everyone present, except for Miss Hackwrench, he reflected.) "Look about you. Do the people here look foolish enough to be taken in by an impostor?" 

There was a subtle shift in the crowd's focus. Instead of being divided between the alleged Gadget Hackwrench, his honour the mayor and the interloper, all eyes were now turned to the mouse in the makeshift storm cape. Under the weight of so many eyes, full-grown humans had caved in and begged for forgiveness. 

The silence was long and uncomfortable, as the strange mouse pointedly didn't look around at the people who surrounded him. Eventually, he said: "Well, they don't look any less gullible than the folks at Redreach, I guess." 

"That's where I'm from." He added challengingly, as though daring anyone to say there was something wrong with that. 

Mayor Castlebridge searched for an answer. With annoyance, he realised there was no reply that would end the confrontation. "Well, then. What do you mean by that?" he demanded. 

"That's where I come from." The stranger declared. "That's where she was, not three weeks ago." 

The crowd murmured in surprise. Redreach was at the far end of the valley their own town was built in, but the valley was long and wild and, with no human transport to borrow rides from, the journey to it would take two weeks. This ragged wonderer could well have made the journey in that time. It certainly explained his appearance; the valley was a dangerous place to travel and many suffered misfortune between the two towns.

"But you must be mistaken." Mayor Castlebridge reasoned as he turned these facts over in his mind. "This young lady has been in our town for more than two weeks now and no-one could cover the distance in less than two weeks."

There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd, though many of the townsfolk were simply moving their lips and staring into space as they did the arithmetic. Two weeks from here to Redreach, three weeks since the stranger claimed to have seen her there, two weeks since she had arrived in their town... even the slower townsfolk were soon nodding their heads with renewed certainty.  

The Redreach mouse remained unbowed; in fact he straightened his back and met the mayor's eyes with a fierce glint. "Then she had transport. An aeroplane, perhaps!" 

The crowd choked with amusement. Even Miss Hackwrench, who had been looking worried before allowed herself a smile. An airplane. "Of course, the real Miss Hackwrench would have an aeroplane!" The Mayor yelled at the mouse in front of him. "Everyone knows that!"

"Well, she ain't the real Miss Hackwrench, she's a fraud, a liar and a thief!" the Redreach mouse shouted back. 

Several members of the crowd were ready to lay hands on him when the Mayor reached out to fall stall any unpleasantness. "Steady there!" He roared. "Young mouse, if she were an impostor she would not have an aeroplane in order to get here in the time you claim she did!" 

"Well, maybe she's an impostor with an aeroplane!" 

The Mayor threw up his hands in despair. 

"Fine. Have it your way, but we'll soon settle this! In a few minutes her friends will arrive in their very real aeroplane and Chip, Monterey Jack and Dale themselves will vouch for Miss Hackwrench, here. 

"And then," Mayor Castlebridge roared, leaning as far forward as he could with out falling of the makeshift stage, "you will apologize to her! Is that clear, young fellow?" 

The Redreach mouse looked sullen, but found his voice easily enough. "If it happens the way you say it will, I'll be happy to."

The Mayor glared furiously at the unshakable youth in front of him. After a moment, the older mouse straightened and twitched his whiskers. Clearly, it was up to him to put things back on track. 

"Under the circumstances, I hardly think it would be fair to ask our guest to continue her speech. I doubt she feels up to it. However, there is a picnic set out for us that the ants haven't manage to completely devour, yet." 

The crowd agreed with nervous laughter but as they made their way towards the picnic a babble of excited chatter and, Mayor Castlebridge feared, of bets being placed was all that could be heard. For a moment he watched before turning to the young mousemaid he shared the stage with and offering her arm. Together they followed the rest of the town's inhabitants and left the strange mouse standing alone, unnoticed and ragged in the middle of the town square. 

3

Not more than one hour had passed since the strange mouse's outburst. For the most part, the townsfolk acted as if nothing had happened from the moment there was food in front of them. Miss Hackwrench, as her hosts still called her, seemed apprehensive and declined to put more than a grain of corn on her beer-bottle-cap plate. The Mayor made polite small talk with his voters, proving that he could still put names to faces and staying close to their guest at all times so that he could either claim to have been supporting her or standing by to grab her if she tried to run. The Redreach mouse stood at the fringes of the celebration and ate nothing, though he watched the food hungrily and no one would have objected if he had helped himself. 

The first person to see the black dot up in the sky was one of the youngsters, who pointed it out with a great shout. Hawks and other birds of prey were a constant threat to mice and all small animals, so there were boltholes and camouflage nets around the picnic site. As all eyes turned skyward, there was a terrified shush. 

"Please, everyone! Be calm." Miss Hackwrench stood upon the Popsicle stick bench she had been sitting on a heartbeat earlier. "I think, if you look closely, you will see it is the Ranger Plane." 

An entire town shielded it's eyes against the sun's glare and squinted, trying to make the dot assume the shape of a bleach bottle, a balloon and a pair of cardboard wings. Yes, the shape hovering above them was an aircraft. There was something like paper fan acting as a tail and the body of the craft hung from a silver balloon. The sharp eyed amongst the watchers could just barely make two battery operated handheld fans mounted on the rear of the plane. 

"I think they're having difficulty. The winds must be against them." The young blonde turned her magnificent blue eyes on Mayor Castlebridge. "I need to guide them in so they can land safely." 

The Mayor hesitated for a moment, but it wasn't doubt about the young mouse maid's identity that knocked his thoughts off track. "Go on. Do what you have to." He ordered in a voice far louder than was strictly necessary given that he was talking to someone an arm's length away. 

"Does anyone have something I can use as flags? I need to signal them to guide them in." She waited a heartbeat and when nothing was offered to her a mischievous glint lit up in her eyes. "I have it!" She announced with a smile and then she snatched two hats from the heads of the two most refined ladies at the head of the table.

Before they could protest she was running down the centre of the table, sending potato salad and dip flying over the still seated guests. She jumped from the end of the table and came down running, ignoring the outcry behind her. There was a bald spot in the meadow that she had set aside for the landing and when she reached the centre she stopped dead. To her right there was the huge bundle of food and supplies the townsfolk had gathered, bound up in a red polka doted cloth. 

Taking a deep breath, she began to use the hats to send her semaphore message. 

As the towns mice watched the ranger plane came closer and closer to the ground. When it was the height of a tall tree from the ground it stopped, the battery-powered fans pointing straight down to hold it in position. 

On the ground, the mouse known as Gadget Hackwrench continued signalling. 

"What's she doing?" demanded the stranger from Redreach. 

"She's guiding the plane down, are you blind as well as mad?" Mayor Castlebridge bawled back.

"Then why is she still signalling when they are they just hovering? And how come the tree tops aren't swaying if the wind is making it difficult to land?" 

Something darted from the aeroplane like a snake's tongue before the Mayor could answer. People cried out as it struck the ground an arm's length from Miss Hackwrench. Carelessly, she spun the hats away from her and grabbed the rope the airship had dropped. She cast a smirk and a wink over her shoulder to freeze the heart of Mayor Castlebridge and gave a yell to her accomplices above: "Haul me up, you bozos!" 

"Stop her!" wailed the Mayor. 

A group of the young men started to run forward but the Redreach mouse had not waited to be told what to do. He had a twelve-inch lead on the others when the first of three grappling hooks dropped out of the sky onto the bundle they had spent weeks preparing. 

The Redreach mouse was less than three inches away from the fraud when the line she was holding suddenly lifted her out of reach. He was left staring upwards, stunned and breathless. 

Far above, a beautiful mousemaid whose name he did not know looked down at him, her hair and skirt flying in the breeze. She laughed at him, and then clambered into the aircraft.

4

Still wearing the blue silk dress she had worn to imitated Gadget, Lawhiney pouted at the pile of supplies as her companions picked them over. Already Lorrie the mole was cooing over a working model aeroplane engine that had formally been used to pump the water supply of an entire town and the French water rat, Pierre, was combing his long waxed whiskers with one hand, while with the other he held a length of black silk across his chest. 

Lawhiney made a mental note to make sure he made a dress for her before letting him start on a suit for himself. She cast a surly glare at Shaka and Brandon, who were sorting the best cheese, chocolate and dried fruit from the pile of food so their group could trade the rest for whatever took their fancy. No one had said anything nice about her since she had been rescued – and at the last minute, too! 

"I was almost captured, you know." 

"Eh, heh heh, it was worth it, eh?" Lorrie giggled, unwisely.

Lawhiney closed her powder puff compact with a sound like a gun being cocked. Lorrie swallowed hard. Pierre lowered the bolt of silk he had found and moved to intercede between the two. 

"Mon Cheri, you know he did not mean that the way it sounded." Pierre pleaded in his best phoney French accent. 

"But he say it, Pierre." Lawhiney retorted, her accent showing as her temper shortened. 

"Now, c'mon on Law'..." Nervously, Brandon looked at Shaka. Shaka shrugged to indicate there was little he could do about it.

"NONE OF YOU CARE ABOUT ME!" 

The others instinctively cringed at the volume of Lawhiney's voice. Brandon moved to put his paws over his ears and remembered too late that he and Shaka were carrying a king sized bar of chocolate. There was a thud as the bar landed on Brandon's foot. "Yow!" 

Lawhiney didn't miss a beat. "I RISK MY LIFE! MY FREEDOM! MY REPUTATION!"

Shaka, glancing over his shoulder, noted that Brandon was holding one foot instead of his end of the chocolate bar. With a shrug, Shaka dropped the other end as well. There was a thud as the rest of the bar landed on Brandon's tail. "Yow! Why you clumsy...!"

"Don't ya mean you're risking other Lawhiney's reputation?" Shaka asked. 

There was a horrified silence as the other three males looked at him in disbelief. 

"What was that?" Lawhiney's voice had become a low, dangerous purr. 

"I said-"

"C'mon here, Shaka baby. Come let Lawhiney whisper in your ear..."

As one, Lorrie, Brandon and Pierre closed their eyes and covered their ears. 

"THERE IS ONLY ONE LAWHINEY!"


	2. The Last One to Know

**_Disclaimer_**

In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone…  except a certain kind of lawyer.

**Chapter Two**

**The Last One To Know**

5

Gadget Hackwrench, mouse, inventor of things that fell apart, rescue ranger for the sake of her looks and an old friendship, an orphan alone against the world, looked awful. She had made the mistake of rubbing her eyes after her all night inventing session and, when she glanced at her reflection in the chrome of the human sized tools on her way into the rodent tool store, she realised that machine oil had marked her eyes like eye shadow. 

She was tired and frustrated and hadn't had a decent meal since yesterday lunch time, but she felt good natured from the caffeine buzz and at home in the dark shadows under the shelving of the human hardware store. She had run out of parts at three in the morning and grabbed four hours sleep in her coveralls before the smell of coffee on the breakfast table had awoken her. After draining enough cups to be sure she was safe to drive, she had set out to her favourite tool store to restock for another all night session in her workshop.

Charlie, the owner of the place, was showing something to a tired looking mouse that was propped up against one end of the matchbox counter. Charlie was old for a mouse, with the best part of his natural life behind him. He had spent the last twenty years of it in the states but his English accent had not faded a single day's worth. He was also short and broad, with a smile or a frown to fit every occasion. 

"Hiya, Charlie." Gadget called to the grey whiskered mouse behind the counter. "How's tricks?" 

"They keep finding new ones to play on me every day, lass." 

Gadget smiled back at her friend. He had been a shop technician when her father flew in air races. He had known her before she was born. He had recognized her before she was a ranger, when she had visited this place to buy parts for the traps she built for salesmen. She had felt guilty at the time about telling him she was "just working on a few ideas". Today he looked at her twice, one eyebrow rose the second time. He had obviously noticed the oil marks. 

"Whacha come in for this time?" He asked with a slight frown. 

"Parts for a new gear box. Metal, this time. The plastic cogs keep stripping."

"That's what you get for stamping on the accelerator, ain't it? Hey, ho. I'll see what I can find for you." 

Charlie turned and walked into the long dark space under the floorboards of the human tool shop that the mice used as a warehouse for their "liberated" hardware parts. As Gadget followed him with her eyes, her gaze met the stony face of the mouse that had been leaning against the matchbox counter. He was as old as Monty and about the same height; in fact, his clothes would have fitted Monty. They might even have fitted the mouse that was wearing them a few months ago, assuming there had been a crash diet during that time. 

All the time that Gadget was looking at him, the mouse stared back at her with hard blue eyes. Something sparked in them. Gadget expected recognition. She got it all the time from rescue ranger wanabes and social climbers. She blinked. But there was something unfamiliar this time. The stranger's expression was as cold a fierce as Fat Cat's and Gadget was suddenly convinced that she and the rangers must have ruined some evil scheme of this character in the recent past. 

Before she could speak the big mouse straightened and his expression changed from stony to furious. He took a slow, mechanical step towards her. His voice was a low hiss. 

"You!"

Gadget wanted to take a step back but had learned to stand her ground too early in life to encourage someone like this to take another step forward. 

"I never thought I'd catch up with you." The strange mouse growled. "You cost me everything." 

Gadget blinked. Her normally swift mind was racing now. What the stranger had said did not make sense. The Rangers had not taken an out-of-state case since the middle of spring. The mouse looked like he had travelled a fair distance. His accent was not foreign but it was not local either. The mouse's condition pointed to a sudden loss of status in the last few months, as did the hatred in his face and voice. But she couldn't remember ever seeing him before. Could her memory be at fault? No. 

The mouse's grudge was obviously too personal for her to have played a minor roll in whatever disaster he blamed her for. He must have been close enough to get a good look at her, so she should have gotten a good look at him, too. Uh-oh. He was getting closer. Time to stop thinking and start acting. 

"I was someone special, someone important until you came along..." 

Planting her feet firmly, she held out one hand as a stop sign. "Hey, I don't know what your problem is but I'm certain I don't know you, Mister." 

"I wish I could say the same! A whole town left hungry by you, the trust of thousands betrayed!"

"Huh?" Gadget blinked.

This was making less sense by the second. She glanced at the other people in the room. There were three, no, four. That noise behind the counter was Charlie rushing back to see what the shouting was. There were three customers. She knew two of them by sight, had made small talk with one of them on her last visit. They were all watching; bemused, embarrassed and alarmed. 

"Here, what's occurring?" 

The bemused customer shrugged at Charlie by way an answer. Angry and puzzled, the shopkeeper looked at Gadget, who tried to come up with an explanation she didn't have. As she opened her mouth to speak, the angry mouse took two swift steps forward and tried to grab her. Panicked, she dodged backwards. 

"Don't try to resist!" the deranged mouse bellowed. "I'll drag you to jail by the hair if I have to!" 

"Here, now!" Charlie called out from behind the counter. "Don't just stand there, give the girl some help!" 

The alarmed customer darted forward until he was standing nose to shoulder with the enraged mouse and then froze there, looking from Gadget to Charlie for some clue to what he should do next. The big mouse ignored him and carried on shouting. 

"I'll see you get what's coming to you! I'll put you where you belong, you harlot!"

Something flared in Gadget. She had already backed up against a display rack and there was now where else to go. Planting her heel against something solid the way Monty had taught her to, Gadget shoved the stranger away with all her strength. The big mouse was surprised and easier to move than she expected- the stranger took one surprised step back, and then came forward with his hand raised. 

"He's going to slap me!" Gadget thought, feeling a little queasy. 

Before the blow could fall, the customer who had been standing next to the maniac grabbed the mouse's arm and held him back. By this time Charlie was out from behind the counter and stomping towards the scene. "Alright, alright. We don't want any trouble here, thank you very much." 

The big mouse's ears were red with fury. In a sudden movement he spun round and the customer holding him was thrown off. A powerful backhanded blow connected with Charlie's cheek, sending Gadget's friend to the floor. 

Gadget could stand no more. Grabbing a human screwdriver the length of her arm from the stand behind her, she swung it like a baseball bat as he turned towards her. 

The makeshift club caught the big mouse on the side of the head with a loud crack and his heavy frame dropped to floor, where he gave a single loud gasp and lay still. 

Everyone, even Charlie, looked at Gadget in shock.

6

"Well, what happened next?"

"For a moment, I was so scared. Everyone really thought I'd killed him! Even me! Of course, it's always possible that he did stop breathing for a second or two and then snapped out of it before we had a chance to see how he really was, so technically we might have been right at the time. But anyway, as soon as the big mouse comes round the vole who had been standing in the corner looking embarrassed the whole time, it turned out he knew the big mouse, so he comes over all angry-"

"What, angry with you?" Chip put in. 

Beside him, Monterey Jack slapped a fist into the palm of his other hand. Chip spared Australian mouse a glance to make sure he wasn't about to rush out the door to cause some damage. 

"No, angry with the mouse who had tried to slap me. He said the guy's life had fallen apart after he was conned by a blonde mouse two months ago. A case of mistaken identity, I guess. Charlie threw them both out and the vole was telling the big mouse that he'd better start looking for another job when they left." 

"Did you get their names?" 

"No, but I think Charlie knew the vole. He was pretty angry about the whole thing."

"But not with you?"

"No, not with me. I think he was shocked that I'd hit someone over the head like that though." 

"Well, you had plenty of cause. I'm sure he'll get over it." Chip mused. 

"I sure hope so. He kept glancing at me after it was all over. Like he didn't trust me with the stock or something." 

"Do you want us to go on over and make sure everything's okay with him?" Chip asked.

"Golly, Chip. I don't think that's such a great idea. If you and Monty show up all angry just after a thing like that people might think we're looking for revenge and, after all, it was just an honest misunderstanding." 

"Honest misunderstanding." Growled Monty. "In a frog's eye! Anyone raises a hand to you like that needs straightening out, Gadget, luv'."

"Well, I'm sure he won't do it again, Monty. Not unless I hit him so hard that he forgets it happened the first time." 

"I'm sure you're right, Gadget." Chip agreed. "Why don't you get some more coffee? You're looking tired."

"I feel tired. It's only eleven and already it's been a busy day." Gadget cast a look over her shoulder from the doorway. "Do you want some?"

"Some what?"

"Coffee, Chip." Gadget turned and stared at him with questioning eyes. Chip blinked at her and seemed to pull himself out of a trance. "He's been doing that more often lately!" Gadget mused silently to herself.

"No. Thank you, Gadget." A wry smile played on the chipmunk's lips. 

What was going on in that chipmunk's mind? Gadget wondered. For the millionth time she wished that people were as easy to understand as complex machinery. Then she turned and disappeared into the kitchen.  

7

As soon as Gadget had left the room, Chip and Monty put their heads together and began an urgent conversation in low voices.

"Chip, what are we going to do?" Monterey asked. "It'll break Gadget's heart if she hears what people are saying about her."

"Not just her, Monty. Us too. All the Rescue Rangers have been implicated in these crimes." 

"I know what you mean, Chipper. It's getting hard to find a place that will let me buy cheese on credit. Everyone thinks I might be an impostor." 

Chip wondered whether it was also because Monty's appetite was bigger than his purse. "Hmmm. The pattern of fake ranger incidents seems to be working their way towards us. I wonder if that's intentional." 

"They're out to ruin us!" Monty growled. "That's what it is!" 

"I don't think so. Some of the people that have been conned didn't even know it until word started to get around and they checked with us. If you ask me, they're just out for booty."

"You think they're using our reputations to get that, too?"

"I mean treasure. Swag. You know, Monty. Stuff." Mind you, Chip thought to himself, they could be. And if an angry father turns up on the doorstep in a few months time we're going to have a hard time convincing anyone it's nothing to do with us.

"I don't like keeping the others in the dark about this, Chip. Couldn't we tell them something?" 

"Zipper already knows. He came to me the other day when he heard some bees talking on those creepers outside the bar and grill."

"You mean he heard it on the grapevine? He didn't say anything to me." 

"He knows how to keep a secret." Chip smiled. "Unlike Dale." 

"Gadget can keep a secret." Monty objected.

"It's her I want to keep in the dark about this. Like you said, it would break her heart if she heard what people are saying about her and it's not just that. Do you remember how she was after the Lawhiney case?"

"Too right! I hate seeing her that way. Moping around all the time, wishing she had a sister or a brother to talk to. Wondering what happened to her mother and if she's really alone in the world. Gewgaw promised to tell her everything when she was old enough, but-" Monty sighed. "-Fate got in the way."

"It's a shame Gewgaw never confided in you, Monty."

"It sure is, mate. I tried to get him to open up, but he just looked awful sad and made me promise never to bring the subject up again." Monty took a deep breath and then let it out again, as though the memory weighed heavily on him. 

"What do you think Gadget will say if it turns out that Lawhiney is behind all this?"

"She'll be angry at first. Like she was in Hawaii. Then she'll brood forever, like she did on the flight home." 

"Crikey, I don't think I could take those questions again. Are you sure she couldn't have been my sister, Monty? Did you and Dad ever visit Hawaii? Did Mom have any relatives there? And all the time, those big blue eyes staring at me." Monty looked at Chip mournfully. "The poor girl wants a family so much that she'll believe anything."

Chip nodded sympathetically. "And if it had turned out to be true, she would have wanted to reform Lawhiney."

"Crikey, Chip. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. But I doubt it's possible. Once someone turns bad there's no way back." 

"You can't say that, Chipper. You haven't seen the things I have. There's no such thing as someone being bad beyond redemption."

"I believe in miracles, Monty, I really do. It's just that I happen to think it would take one to reform a creature like Lawhiney. Or Nimnul, or Fat Cat, come to that."

"You really think she's the one impersonating Gadget?"

"It's possible. She's got prior. But Chief Hubba Bubba said she wouldn't be able to get off the island without help and the tribe mice weren't even supposed to meet her gaze. Until someone who's actually met Gadget gets fooled, we can't be sure we're dealing with anything other than a beautiful girl mouse who's got a blonde wig."

Chip moved over to his desk in the corner of the living room and began to pull out his investigation tools. "I've sent a letter to the island tribe. You know how long we could wait for a reply."

Monty nodded. "Quickest way to send a letter is to get a paint roller and enough paper redecorate your whole house and pretend whoever you're writing to is human. And then you've got to hope they go through the trash of the place you send it to so they can read it." 

"I sent it the other way." Chip replied.

"You gave it to a friendly stranger heading in the right general direction?"

Chip looked up from his razor-blade penknife, contact-lens magnifier and quarter inch piece of pencil lead wrapped in sellotape. "No. I mean the other, other way. The pigeon post. Cost me my own body weight in corn." 

"That's a fortune! Where did you get that kind of birdseed to throw away?"

"I traded what I'd been saving for Dale's birthday for most of it, the rest I owe them. I'm helping to sort mail the next three Saturdays." Chip stood up, satisfied that he had everything he wanted. "I've got to go out and find that mouse. If he's a good witness and he still can't tell the difference between Gadget and the mouse that tricked him then we'll know what we're facing. Plus, the last report we had was from the airfield they stole some aircraft parts from." 

Chip paused to unlock the bottom draw and remove his trademark fedora hat. As part of his new stress reduction program he had been trying to break the habit of wearing it when he was not on a case but so far he had caught Dale wearing it and imitating him twice, which meant removing the hat now had the opposite effect to the one intended. Brushing a speck of draw dust from the brim, he continued. 

"That was on the western border of the state, five weeks ago. I thought they were getting out while they could. If this mouse ran into them since then at a place between here and there, then that means these impostors are getting closer."

"And that means they're out to get us, just like I said. Right, Chipper?" 

"Instead of just being out for the loot. In which case it's probably because they want revenge." 

"Crikey! That would mean we musta crossed paths with them before."

"And since only Lawhiney could imitate Gadget out of all the criminals we've caught before, her involvement would become a certainty." Chip had reached the front door. 

"Wait up, pally." Monty told him. "I'm coming with you. Gadget said this fella we're looking for is a big 'un" 

"Okay, Monty."

They left together, both reflecting on the chaos counterfeit rangers could cause.

8

"It's getting harder to fool people." Brandon said. "I was about talk a shop owner into subscribing for special protection from the rescue rangers when he starts talking to the lady in front of me about how he met Chip Maplewood one time when he was giving a talk at their community centre." 

"Eh, it's because we're getting closer to where the rangers live." Lorrie replied in his wheezy, nervous voice, which made the "I" in "live" sound like a stretched and tortured "e". 

"Is that all you bums can think about?" Lawhiney whined. "Think about the danger I'm in. Any of you can take off the hats, coats and shirts and disappear again."

"Thanks for the tip." Muttered Brandon.

"All the rangers have to do to find me is go around saying: Have you seen anyone who looks like our friend over there?" Lawhiney tossed her hair, petulantly. "People remember seeing a beauty like me."

Shaka Baka shook his head wearily. Lawhiney had not stopped complaining since they had finished counting their loot from the last town they had fleeced. That had been two days ago. Something had to give. Either Lawhiney would be distracted by something or the others would get up and leave. Shaka Baka wasn't the sharpest knife in the draw but seeing the same story repeated half a dozen times in a row made an impression on even him. He turned away and wondered through the six-inch crack at the bottom of the door. 

They had chosen the garage of a suburban human for their latest hideout, at least, until the human came home again. They had gained access by jamming a six-inch long house brick between the base of the up and over remote controlled door and the ground as the human's car had pulled away from the drive. There were no prior residents in the garage, though the scent of a house cat was detectable under the internal door. 

If he closed his eyes, he could imagine that he could hear the ocean. 

Shaka missed the ocean. It reminded him of Lawhiney and Lawhiney reminded him of the ocean. They were both deep (Shaka thought), beautiful, relentless and capable of sucking you under and destroying you utterly. With a sigh, Shaka walked back into the garage only to be hopelessly netted in a newspaper page that dropped neatly onto his content challenged head. 

He didn't have to yell for too long before the others came and got him. 

"You dumb *%@~!" Brandon cursed. "You wouldn't know a mouse-trap from a moussaka!" 

"Hey, I didn't get far enough to drop out of college." Shaka complained. 

Shaka Baka had never demanded anything difficult from his accomplices, like respect, but using words he understood was on his badly written list of two items and since the first item ("There must be lots of really big waves wherever we go.") was generally met by everyone waving their hands at him before their aircraft took off, he insisted the second one was a must at all times. People had been neglecting him of late, treating him like he was trash just because he was dumb. It was time to make a stand. 

Scowling, he demanded: "What's mussaka?" 

"Oh brother, you are some piece of work." Brandon sighed. 

Shaka was reasonably certain that Brandon wasn't a relative. He scowled some more. "What's mussaka?" He repeated.

There was about to be a fight, an ugly one probably involving broken teeth and stamped on tails and cries of "He started it!", but a soft voice grabbed them both by their hormones and stopped them in their tracks. 

"Oh boys, I think I've found our next job." 

Lawhiney was at her most beautiful. She stood along side their aeroplane with a tattered piece of newspaper in her hands. It was triangular but big enough to show a colour picture of a pearl with a rainbow-sheen set in a circle of silver big enough to sit on a human head. 

"Aw no." Brandon said. "Not human stuff."

"The Oowow of Chief Bigawan Tan Yu!" Shaka stared. "The only treasure Humans ever stole." The Hawaiian mouse sighed in wonder. 

"Humans don't steal anything, except from each other!" Lorrie exclaimed.

"Humans stole this treasure, because it was the only one that anyone who wasn't human ever fought to keep." Lawhiney smiled. 

"Ha! Asides from their own hide you mean!" 

"Twenty warriors with spears and clamshell shields don't turn out for anyone's hide." Lawhiney told him. "This pearl is the great treasure of my tribe. Before the human with the hat and the leather jacket and the snake of cow skin that lived by his hand came and stole it from us our tribe had only good fortune. And whoever returns it can do no wrong in the eyes of the tribe." Her gaze turned, significantly, to Shaka Baka. 

"It is the height of a full grown warrior." Shaka announced. The photograph actually showed the pearl smaller than it's actual size. The type beneath it gave the name of the museum displaying it and dates that it would be on show. 

Lorrie peered at the fine print. "Part of the great treasure hoard of Pirate Captain McNamara, this tiara will be on display that the City Museum of Culture and Antiquity for three weeks as part of their theme on pirates. The tiara and other items on display are valued at over $1,800,000." 

"Hmm." Brandon mused. "I wonder what the biggest haul ever taken by rodent thieves is..."

"And whoever returns it can do no wrong in the eyes of the tribe..." Lawhiney repeated. 

9

They came to the museum where the pearl was on display in the early hours of the evening. Mice, like most small rodents, were most active in the night. Though they could visit the museum in the day hardly any chose to do so. Too many visitors might spot them scurrying in the un-swept corners and bring the wrath of humanity down on their heads. After closing time it was another story. 

Museums are not completely empty after visiting hours. There are exhibits to be dusted by cleaners, floors to be mopped, displays to be set up or taken down and all by human beings. It wasn't until eleven o'clock at night that the museum mice encouraged visitors. By that time only the security guards were a danger and they kept to predictable paths through the museum that they walked at exactly the same times.

Lawhiney was back in her "Gadget" disguise. With luck a museum mouse guide would be taken in and agree to tell her more about the security arrangements than a normal visitor should be told. Of course, it was a risk. 

This museum was right in the heart of the Rescue Ranger's territory. Having fooled Gadget's closest friends at point blank range once before Lawhiney was not worried about meeting someone who had seen the real Gadget. But this close to the Rangers back yard there was the chance that word of her visit would get back to the Rangers before they could pull off the job, or that someone who knew Gadget would show up and put her intimate knowledge of the Rangers to the test. There was even the chance that she might find herself standing alongside the real thing. 

On the other hand, that would also make this job so much more satisfying. Lawhiney had a score to settle. And if a certain mechanically minded chatterbox found herself explaining things to the authorities or with a near terminal dent in her reputation when the dust settled, then that would just be the icing on the cake. 

10

Louis liked being a museum guard. He liked the quiet and the time to himself. As he walked through the quiet hallways and display rooms he was careful to shine his torch in all the right places, check that all the doors that were supposed to be locked were locked and call in to the control room on his radio every fifteen minutes. The one thing that got on his nerves was the regular sound of his own footsteps. They always seemed to fill the whole room as though he weighed a three hundred pounds or something. 

He caught sight of his reflection in a glass display cabinet. Okay, so he was a little past the point where he could "pinch an inch". He was cutting down on what he ate. He straightened his uniform and pulled back his shoulders. There, that was better. Not that he was going to meet many women tonight. Not ones who had drawn a breath in the last thousand years, anyway.

Louis continued his rounds, followed by his echoing footfalls. 

Ka-Thud.

Ka-Thud.

Ka-Thud.

Lawhiney watched the water in her paper cup carefully. Each footstep sounded like a Jurassic Park sound effect to her sensitive ears but the surface of her water was still and smooth, unlike the cup of water in the movie. Had they made that up for the film? Why was that, she mused? Her double would know, she was sure. What would she say if someone asked her? Best be brutal, fix whoever it was with a stern look and say she hadn't got time for stupid questions. 

The foot falls faded into echoes along the marble hallways and the mice came out from hiding. An older mouse wearing a blue museum guide uniform stepped up on a matchbox and began speaking through his thick grey moustache in a measured monotone from which all trace of emotion had been worn away by repetition. 

"Your attention everyone can I have your attention, please. Yes, everyone, even you at the back. My name is Samuel and the young lady to my right and your left is Zoë. I am the senior guide for your tour of the museum. Zoë will be assisting me. Those of you not following the prescribed tour feel free to wonder taking care to remain within scurrying distance of the shelters under each exhibit. If you have trouble running or if you are unable to see the entrance to one of these shelters, please ask Zoë or myself for assistance. The warning signal in the event of an unexpected human presence in this wing of the museum is three shrill blasts from a dog whistle. This is quite obvious to us but inaudible to humans. If you are hearing impaired please stay with a hearing friend or a guide."

Like anyone hearing impaired could hear that, Lawhiney sneered to herself. Careful to keep her face neutral, she watched Zoë carefully. The young mouse was tall and slender. She had good looks, but acted like she wasn't aware of them. Probably spent most of her life in the museum, Lawhiney thought, dreaming of the big world outside while her parents and teachers worked hard to keep her in sensible clothes when she was busy with the dull, sensible job they had picked for her. A few big lies about dangerous rescues from dashing villains will have her eating out of my hand, Lawhiney smiled. 

The main tour party moved off and Lawhiney went with them. She wanted to follow them as far as the pearl before she tried to get any information on the alarm system. It wouldn't hurt to see what else was around for the taking and maybe warm up the conversation with Zoë before she worked it around to where she wanted to go. She just hoped that Gadget wasn't a regular at this place. Zoë had a wholesome quality to her and Lawhiney could imagine her getting on with the real Gadget like a house on fire. 

The first exhibit was a golden urn that looked like a spittoon to Lawhiney. From the floor of the museum there wasn't much to see. The edge of the case eclipsed the lower half of the urn and what was visible looked like the end of a trumpet pointed at heaven. Lawhiney looked once at it and then watched the visitors while listening to the guide's talk with half an ear in case he mentioned dollar value. 

There was an old couple to her left with a contact lens camera hanging around the man's neck. Retirement or second honeymoon, Lawhiney wondered? They were safe either way. Fat vole directly in front, trying to mask her scent with a sweet perfume that Lawhiney wrinkled her nose at. Ugly mouse to her right, eating un-popped popcorn out of a paper cone; uh-oh, he was glancing over. Don't make eye contact. Darn. He had seen her look away. Now he would think she had been checking him out. Oh well, it was time she started to work her way towards Zoë anyway. And if he followed, Lawhiney could use it as an excuse to pal up with the young guide. Zoë would understand, any female would; it was a sister thing. She couldn't have been that sheltered. 

Moving through the crowd, Lawhiney fixed her best winning smile on her face. 

11

"And finally the pearl was left to the Smithsonian Institute as part of a bequest in 1991, by alleged mobster Pinkie Brice, following his untimely demise in a cement pouring accident. Since they already have several pearls, including the largest one in the world, they decided allow the crown of Tin-Can Island to tour the country so everyone could enjoy it." 

Samuel had saved the big pearl and silver headband for close to the end of their tour. There were only a couple of items more impressive, one of which was a 1:4 scale pirate ship that was just big enough for mice to wonder around inside with enough room left over for their own gift shop. The model had been built especially for the exhibit and was generally passed over by human visitors. For the mice it was the main attraction and best of all it wasn't wired up to the alarm system. 

Lawhiney smiled again at her new friend. Just as she had expected, all she had needed to do was smile ask a couple of dumb questions and look impressed when Zoë knew the answers. Zoë had responded well to a couple of complements, forgetting the very professionalism that Lawhiney had just praised her for. Within minutes they were talking like new friends and after a hint that the popcorn kernel-crunching mouse was an unwanted admirer they were talking like sisters. By the time Samuel had reached the end of Pearl's history Zoë and Lawhiney had fallen far enough behind the tour party that they could talk like without being overheard. 

"So my sister says she's going to be translator for the RAS but that's because someone told her she would get to go to Paris that way… if my parents knew the real reason they would be way less keen to pay her tuition fees. Besides I'm sure she has a crush on the instructor and that's where it all started. Say, what's your name, by the way?" 

Lawhiney savoured the moment. Slightly amused smile, cool eye contact and a long slow blink to give Zoë think about it. The little airhead was still giving her a blank look. Oh well. "My friends call me Gadget." She said kindly. 

"Oh really? I know another Gadget."

Lawhiney swallowed hard and worked to keep the smile on her face, if not in her eyes. "Oh? Do tell."

"My friend's little sister. They're calling her after the Rescue Ranger. Or at least, they might be. It depends whether that story in the newspaper yesterday was true or not." 

"What story?"

"The one about the money for an orphanage up north disappearing. I don't see how it could be, I mean, look at all the good work she's done." 

"Oh that." Lawhiney snickered to herself, nastily. 

"I'm sorry?" 

"Nothing. I'm sure they'll never bring charges. But we can always hope." Lawhiney grimaced at Zoë's blank expression and quickly added: "That whoever's really behind it will come to light and be punished, I mean." 

Several expressions flickered across Zoë's face like sunshine through tree branches. Lawhiney watched; waiting to see which expression would be at the top of the deck when the shuffle ended. 

"Say," Zoë began as her face settled on a mix of surprise and interest, "are you the Gadget Hackwrench?"

Lawhiney leaned closer to her with a guilty glance over each shoulder. "Don't tell anyone. I'm not supposed to be here." 

"Oh! This is terrific! And I was going on about some silly newspaper report that couldn't possibly be right." 

"Now promise me that you'll keep quiet. I can hardly go anywhere without people making a fuss and that's so embarrassing if you don't like attention."

"Of course, of course."

"What I was really interested in was the Crown of Tin Can Island. Well, not so much the crown as the alarm system. I'm expected to design one you see, so I'm checking out a few good ones to see how it's done."

"Oh? Well, we're really not supposed to…"

"Don't worry about that, dear. I've already seen the plans for it, so you don't have to say a word. I just wondered what it looked like in real life." 

Of course that did it. The moment that Lawhiney implied that Zoë didn't know anything worth hearing, Zoë was bursting to tell everything she knew, just to prove she did. 

Lawhiney smiled and nodded as the young guard prattled on about lasers, infrared detectors and metal detectors. She didn't understand one word in ten, but there was a microphone taped to the inside of her jumpsuit (the rest of the team had fought for the privilege of putting it there) and Lorrie was outside with a tape recorder and his own microphone in case he had to feed her any technical mumbo-jumbo.      

"…but the really interesting stuff is the things we've putting without the humans knowing. After all, there are rodent thieves too."

"Oh, tell me about that."

"I can't. It's top secret and I don't know most of it. I could introduce you to the chief of the watch, though. Nothing gets past him." 

"Maybe later. I haven't the time now." Ask again after hell freezes over, Lawhiney thought. "You seem like such a bright girl." She pretended. "Don't they tell you anything?"

Zoë let out a short laugh. "All I need to know is that when the museum is closed to visiting rodents, we have every mouse-hole crack and vent in the place shut tighter than a rat trap. Either they're guarded, or closed off, or wired up with our own alarms." 

The young guard suddenly seemed saddened. "Makes sneaking out for some fun impossible. It's like living in the smallest colony in the world, only you see people come through all the time." 

"It's like that in a lot of places." Lawhiney told her, dispassionately. 

"I wouldn't know. I've never really been outside on my own."

"You were telling me about your own security." Lawhiney prompted, trying to make it sound like she was uncomfortable with the subject.

"I'd finished, actually. About the only way in is the way the bats use when they feel like annoying us." Zoë jerked her head upwards and Lawhiney's eyes followed the motion to a large stained glass window in top of the domed ceiling. The centre pane of the window was open and the night sky was visible outside. 

"I see. Thank you… you've been very helpful."

12

"Travelling light, I see." 

Monty looked over the things Chip had methodically laid out on the living room floor. He had come in looking for Zipper, only to be told the fly was keeping watch on the door to Gadget's workshop in case she came out unexpectedly. If she did come out for a snack, which would be a first, it would be a fun job to hide all the equipment Chip had on the floor before she came in. Half of it would fit under the settee, Monty reckoned, but the rest…

"I've put together the essential things, but I don't see how I can carry it all. Maybe I should take Dale after all." 

"The lad has his uses." Monty considered. "Still, he's no pack horse, that's for sure. And you'd have to take equipment for him, as well." 

"Approached logically, packing for a short journey like this shouldn't be any problem. But I just can't decide what to take and leave. You've travelled, Monty. What do you think?"

"Unless you're planning to sleep rough, leave the bed roll. That's a good three grams right there and it's bulky as well. I don't think you'll need the rope either. If you're some place where people need rope, there's generally some around. Unless you're out in the wilds." He went over the items Chip had planned on taking until he was left with a small bag that could be carried in one hand.

"You've left me with my tooth brush, my lunch box and my investigators kit."

"Well, that's all you know you're going to need."

"Well, I'd better put the rest of this stuff away then. Hey, Monty, could you close the door?" 

"Have you thought about what Zipper and me are supposed to tell Gadget and Dale?" 

"Well, you can tell Dale that I've been abducted by aliens. But I'm going to tell Gadget that I've gone to a detective convention in the next city." 

Monty scratched his head. "You sure you want to tell them two different stories like that, mate?" 

Chip chuckled. "No, you tell them what ever you want. We'll tell them the truth as soon as I get back from checking out those rumours about Gadget… Did you hear something?" 

"Yes, Chip. That I did." Monty opened the front door and Chip checked the kitchen and the hallway. "Nobody out there now." Monty shrugged. 

Chip looked around one last time, wearing his "I'm stubborn" expression. "Well, anyway," he continued, "we can't have people thinking that one of us is a con artist and a thief." 

"What is that noise?" Monty mused. "It seems to be coming from upstairs."

"Dale is probably acting out one of his comic books again. So long as he doesn't forget he can't fly and jump out a window again." 

Monty's jaw dropped. "You mean to tell me he actually did that once?"

"Sure. Well, not exactly, I mean, it was before you knew him." 

"Chipper, me lad, are you telling me stories?"

"He was eight. We both were. I don't want to talk about it. It's an unhappy memory. Anyway, I'm going to a town called Redreach. I hear they were collecting for an orphanage and the trustee was calling herself Gadget Hackwrench. They're mad as bees after a bear's raided the honey, by all accounts."

"You don't think they'll come here after her, for revenge, do you?"

"By the sounds of that fight Gadget got into at the hardware store, I'd say it was only a matter of time."

"Then we've got to get this cleared up as fast as possible."

Chip nodded seriously. "I'll say. Did you see me trying to hide the newspaper this morning? The Park Life had an editorial on the so-called scurrilous rumours featured by a rival newspaper across town. Fortunately the Life has been singing our praises too loudly not to take our side, for now, but it can't be long before every rodent news service in the city is shouting about it." 

"It's a sad commentary on our times. There's nothing people like to read about more than a good reputation dragged through the mud." 

"Most people never really earn a good or a bad reputation. Someone with a good reputation makes them feel guilty for not living better and someone with a bad reputation makes them feel like they aren't doing so badly."

"I hope Gadget never hears of this. It would break her little heart. To know that people thought she was a liar and thief. Chip, we've got to stop this and make sure she never finds out."

"She'll have to be told sooner or later, but I'd rather it was after whoever's behind this is safely under lock and key. And I mean their safety, too. Remember the Koo Koo Cola case? I hate to think what Gadget would do to someone who was making her out to be… well, I some of the rumours I'm hearing aren't just calling her a liar and a thief."

There was an awkward silence between the two males. "The things some people won't say out of spite." Monty replied awkwardly. 

"I'm not sure it is just out of spite, Monty. I've already overheard someone saying: '"That sort of thing's only to be expected from a girl who lives with three unattached males'" I've even heard people sticking up for her. Saying that anyone who's going to complain about the way she lives her life ought to go out and a rescue a few people themselves first." 

"I still don't think it would hurt to let her know about the situation. Better she hears it from us than some stranger." 

"Darn it, Monty! I've made my decision. Do you want to protect Gewgaw's little girl from all this, or not?"

"Well, if you put it like that Chipper…" 

"Good. Then it's settled. I'll work the crime scene; as soon as I have a good idea where we can catch them I'll come and get you and the others."

"Including Gadget?"

"Maybe. I'd rather present her with the whole thing wrapped up and done with." 

Monty stroked his moustache thoughtfully. "That would impress her, right enough."  

Chip froze guiltily and then gave Monty a sheepish grin. "Oh, do you think so, Monty?" 

Monty towered over the young chipmunk. "Now see here, Chipper, if you've got me keeping secrets from Gadget just so you can impress her…"

"No! That's not the only reason- I mean, you know how badly it got to her the last time someone impersonated her and we didn't realise. This will make up for it."

"I know how badly it got to you, you mean."

Chip wrestled the flat bedroll back into a roll, which he fastened with a pipe cleaner. "Well, it affected all of us to be made fools of like that."

"Some of us were bigger fools than others, as I recall…" 

Monty's voice trailed off as he followed Chip into the hall, leaving the living room almost empty. There was a pause, then a sigh of relief from the direction of the ceiling. 

Gadget was suspended by her latest invention; a set of lever and spring actuated climbing grips. Being upside down is uncomfortable for a mouse at the best of times and Gadget was loosing the feeling in her fingers. Perhaps she should call Chip and Monty back to help her. The safety straps binding the grippers to her arms and legs were tight for safety, but they had cut off her circulation. If she lost her grip on the lever that kept the grippers closed she would fall. 

She looked up. Or rather, down. 

The drop wasn't far, but it would hurt if she landed badly. 

Mice do not climb as well as chipmunks or squirrels and sometimes living in a tree house was more of a curse than a blessing to her and Monty, who had to climb the stairs instead of scampering up the bark anyway they wanted. She could think of several occasions on rescues where being able to follow Chip or Dale somewhere mice couldn't climb would have been an advantage. So she had devised her "climb-anywhere-hand-and-foot-grips (mark 2)" to rectify the problem. She had achieved the test run's goal of going from the top of the oak tree to the bottom and then back up again when she realised that she would need help to take the grippers off, as they were fastened to her arms and legs with pipe cleaners. 

Monty had been sitting just outside the front door enjoying the view, but had turned around and gone inside again just as Gadget got within speaking distance. She had followed with an impish smile but once in she had found herself in a quandary.

It was wrong to eavesdrop, particularly on your friends and especially (for some reason Gadget had never quite understood) when you were the topic of conversation. She had also quickly realised that her two friends were talking about something they had kept from her (something friends weren't supposed to do) and that making her presence known would embarrass them and make it look as if she had been spying on them. She also knew that Chip and Monty were both moral people and couldn't possibly want to keep secrets from her, which meant that if she heard their conversation they would not be. 

Gadget had applied a complex kind of moral algebra she kept for just such occasions to the problem but the equation turned out to be surprisingly difficult, especially the part that dealt with two wrongs not making a right, when everyone knew that in algebra two negatives did equal positive. Meanwhile, down below, Chip and Monty had finished their conversation and left the room. 

Gadget shelved the unfinished equation for later, in case she got bored or found herself in the same situation again. There's always Dale, she thought. I could ask him to help get these things off. 

There was a faint ping from the direction of her right ankle. 

Gadget had confidence in her ability as an engineer. She was also willing to accept that quite often the things she built didn't work, occasionally in spectacular ways. This sort of thing was part of developing any new device, she told herself, and in no way a reflection on her ability as an inventor or a mechanic. 

The ping was followed by a drawn out metallic creak from the device strapped to her left arm, which promptly fell apart.

Gadget opened her mouth to scream for help. If they ran, Monty, or preferably Chip, might make it in time to catch her. Then the spring on the device strapped to her right leg broke and the device on her left leg lost its grip on the ceiling. Gadget's scream became a gulp of apprehension as she swung by one hand. Briefly. 

**THUD!**

Gadget grimaced and sucked air through her teeth, because when you're a mouse it's not a good idea to bite your lip. Thankfully, she had lifted her tail before she landed, or she would have landed squarely on it. Instead she had landed on the best padded, but sadly most sensitive part of her lower anatomy. She took a moment to wait for the pain to start before moving, hoping that it would be bruise pain and not broken bone pain when it arrived.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow. Oh, thank heaven." She said, when she was fairly sure nothing was broken. "Ouch. Dad, if that was you reminding me not to listen in on other people's conversations, the point is taken." 

**THUNK**

The spring loaded climbing grip had been fixed to her right arm and had remained imbedded in the ceiling when she fell. For some reason, it had chosen that moment to come loose and fall. She had used hypodermic needles for the gripper's fingers, which made the finished article look like something from "Nightmare on Elm Street". It really was very lucky, Gadget reflected, that she hadn't landed with her legs together or it would have just stapled her to the floor. 


	3. The Hackwrench Heist

**_Disclaimer_**

_In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone…  except a certain kind of lawyer._

**Chapter Three**

**The Hackwrench Heist**

13

"Testing. Testing." 

"No." Pierre told her, clopping the end of his black cane against the ground for emphasis. "That accent is all wrong. Think about how the people here speak. I know you can do it. You've already done it, accidentally sometimes. You did it last night when you asked me to pass the salt."

"Testing. Testing. My name is Gadget Hackwrench." Lawhiney repeated. 

"Her voice still isn't high enough." Lorrie suggested. "Let me try my invention." 

"Very well, but it must not show, like the first one you tried. We can't expect them to believe she's wearing an aqualung as a fashion accessory." Pierre stood back and tried to look as though he was supervising. 

When the human who owned the garage had returned from work, Lawhiney's Raiders had found shelter in an abandoned shop not far from where they had been. The place had been closed for only a week and there were still rattraps behind the counter to warn off casual visitors from making themselves at home. Shaka Baka had to be watched carefully in such a place. Brandon was doing the watching and occasionally an audible "Bop!" followed by an "Ouch, dude!" would reveal both their location and the existence of yet another trap. 

Lorrie gestured for Lawhiney to raise her hands so he could attach a tiny pack to her belt. The pack was the same colour as her jumpsuit, which was closer to deep blue than the lavender the real Gadget wore, but they were short of time and Brandon said that sales of jumpsuits exactly like Gadget's was the sort of thing that a detective like Chip Maplewood would use to track them down. The hair dye Gadget was using these days was harder to get right but then, how many guys noticed when the women they lived with changed some little detail of their appearance? 

"It's ready." Lorrie told her. "I just have to thread this pipe up through the inside of your vest." He added and reached to do so. Her hand caught his just as his fingers were starting to slide under the white cotton of her T-shirt. 

"Lorrie." Lawhiney purred warningly. "Have you been a good boy?" 

"Oh yes, Ma'am!" Lorrie looked from his hand to her eyes and back again. "Please let me, it won't take a moment." He pleaded. 

"Very well- but the hose goes over the T-shirt and under the jacket. Not against my fur." Lawhiney smiled cruelly, having caught the moment of hope and dismay that flashed across Lorrie's face.  

There was a brief lull in conversation as Pierre watched the scene play out and found that he did not trust himself to speak. He had played with the hearts of many females. Two had committed suicide to prove their love for him but still there was something about watching Lawhiney at work that left him in awe. He had known from the first moment he saw her that he was watching a kindred spirit. Had he been ten years younger they would have been opposite sides of the same coin. Lawhiney's eyes met his. Her nose crinkled just barely enough to notice. And that, Pierre knew, was as far as she would go. 

Since that first moment under the roulette wheel in a private (and illegal) casino, they had been "circling" one and other like martial artists. Each recognized and respected the other's skill, yet continued to search for a way past their defences. 

"I'm done." Lorrie sighed, finally.

"Wait." Lawhiney told him. 

"Yes?"

The sound of the slap made Pierre wince, even though he had expected it. 

"That's for THINKING about trying something." She told the mole. "Now-" her voice smoothly changed to sweetness and light "-show Lawhiney how this marvellous invention of yours works." 

"Yeh, yes, Lawhiney." Lorrie stumbled. "Inside the pack on your belt is a tiny glass vial that we looted from a hospital. I have placed chemicals in the vial so that when you move the hidden lever here-" he showed her the lever "-they react with each other. A mixture of gasses is given off, but the long tube I have run from your belt up to your collar contains a filter that will only allow the helium to pass to your mouth. The reaction should continue for several minutes and the valve at the end of the tube means you can prevent too much from escaping, so you won't all end up sounding like houseflies. Eh, heh, heh, heh." Lorrie began laughing to himself at the thought.

Lawhiney looked at him disdainfully as she gave the device a test run. It felt a little like taking a hit on a cigarette, she thought as she put the end of the tube to her lips. 

"Don't take to much!" Lorrie warned her. 

"*###…!" She replied. Her eyes went wide with shock and her hands flew to her throat. 

"Mon Duex! She sounds like a bumble bee I once knew in Paris!" Pierre looked astonished. 

"She has taken too much." Lorrie explained. "Close the valve and breath normally." He added to Lawhiney.

Lawhiney did so; then she tried again. "This is Gadget Hackwrench speaking to you with the sound of my own voice." She declared. 

"Very good. Now, with the accent and remember your grammar this time." Pierre nodded encouragingly.

"Hello. Please allow me to introduce myself. Can you guess my name?"

Pierre held out his hands imploringly. "Tell us your name." He whispered, his fur standing on end as he watched the young temptress he admired being submerged by…

"I'm Gadget Hackwrench! Hi there!" the person in front of him piped up, perkily. 

Brandon swept the debris of their lunch from the large matchbox they had used as a table. As the last cup clattered to the floor, Pierre took a roll of paper from his jacket pocket and placed it on the newly cleared surface. 

"Right." He began in his real voice, which was London cockney, not French. "Here's the plan."

"As you may recall, someone asked why Shaka Baka couldn't take a turn at the wheel. Shaka Baka seconded the idea and since the rest of us were asleep at the time the motion was approved. As a result, our previous aircraft strongly resembles modern art."

There was a moment of silence while everyone either glared at Shaka and Lorrie, or remembered the sight of the bleach bottle lying squashed flat in the middle of a busy road, the sliver balloons burst and tattered under the wheels of a grocery truck. 

"Luckily we couldn't carry all the stuff we've swiped over the last few weeks with us, so we have enough stashed to trade for the equipment we need. And enough left over to get out of town, fast, if things go wrong." Pierre added in a much quieter voice. 

"There is a stained glass window at the top of the room. It is almost never open, except on the hottest days of summer. The ceiling is a dome, with a marble surface. Suction cups will hold, other than that there isn't so much as a toehold. It's a forty-foot drop to the floor. Also marble. No chance of a soft landing. No way out past the humans and the museum mice if there were.

"Fifteen feet down the dome gives way to marble support columns and the normal walls of the museum. They are all internal walls, so no drilling through from the outside. We can tunnel in but the museum mice will have a network of their own tunnels already, so we would have to go through them if we took that route."

Pierre took that opportunity to look up and see if everyone was following him. They were. Even Shaka Baka. Maybe. 

"The human entrances and exits will be swarming with humans when the museum mice are inactive. Going in then is risky. We might get as far as the pearl but we wouldn't stand a chance of stealing it. When the humans aren't using the museum their doors are sealed so tight even we can't get through them." 

"As for the normal ways in and out of the museum, the resident rodents have them all alarmed, trapped, guarded and sealed when they aren't in use. When they are… well, we could get in as tourists but we'd have to fight our way out."

Brandon opened his mouth. 

"No, that isn't a possibility. The population of the museum must be at least three or four hundred and that's just mice. Even if only one in ten of them are able to fight, that still leaves at least thirty to deal with." The French Rat smiled at Brandon. "I can't see them forming an orderly queue, can you?"

Brandon shook his head with a smile. Pierre had once persuaded five angry mice to form a queue and fight Brandon one at a time, instead of all jumping him at once. Brandon had won the first four fights. The fifth mouse had remembered an urgent appointment elsewhere.

"To make things even more challenging, there are human security guards even when the museum is closed. They check the pearl every twenty minutes. The mice guards are always watching from various nooks and crannies, where they are armed with clubs, nets and at least one human air-pistol, cut down to act as a field cannon." Pierre gave his… associates a tired smile. "The human guards are also armed, of course. Although I hardly think they'd trouble to use them just to kill the likes of us. Which isn't to say they won't kill us if we're spotted." 

There was a silence. "Sounds impossible." Brandon suggested. 

"And I haven't even mentioned the alarm system yet…" 

Pierre continued but no one was really focused on him or the plans. They were imagining the scene in the museum at night, when the human hoards had gone home to their palaces of bright lights, rich food and music. They were picturing the guards, human and rodent, the marble surfaces and that mysterious and all knowing alarm system.

"The alarm system fitted to the crown of Tin Can Island is in four layers of protection. 

"First, there's the layer that protects the whole building. The roof is armed with pressure sensors and motion detectors. A human would set off both but birds can land on the museum roof without triggering them so we should be safe even with the weight of a vehicle. All of the doors, window frames and walls are wired. If any are open or broken through the alarm will be triggered instantly."

"Next comes the layer that protects the room the crown is in. That's a tough one. The base of the domed ceiling is ringed with infrared detectors. There are six of them. They can't detect rodent sized creatures on the floor otherwise they'd go off every time a tour party went through. Closer, it's another story. Walk down the ceiling with rubber suction cups on your feet and get too close to them, every alarm in the place will go off. 

"This second layer of protection also includes a web of laser beams that cross the floor. The lasers form a static grid. That means they don't move, Shaka." Pierre anticipated the interruption.

"What's a laser?" Shaka asked. 

"Never mind." Pierre said loudly, before Lorrie could show off his technical knowledge. "The important thing is that there are lasers crossing the floor at three feet above the ground, twelve inches above the ground, and six inches above the ground. And the museum mice themselves only found out about the lowest ones when a groundhog visitor from Texas set them off."

Pierre sighed deeply. "As Brandon said, it sounds impossible." 

Lawhiney narrowed her eyes. 

Pierre resumed. "The third layer of protection guards the actual case the crown and the pearl are kept in. The glass is coated with a conducting film that sets off the alarm when it's broken. The air in the case is kept at a special pressure and humidity, like all the other exhibits. Since the pressure and the humidity are monitored anyway the alarm system ties into these sensors. If the case is broken into, the humidity and the air pressure change. The alarm is activated." 

Pierre placed a new piece of paper on the "table". It was a detailed drawing of the case and the crown itself. 

"The fourth and last layer is wired to the actual crown. A metal detector under the crown set to go off if it stops detecting the precise alloy of gold and silver the crown is made of. Also two clasps are discretely fastened to the underside of the crown, they pass an electric current through the metal. If the current is broken, the alarm is raised."

"One last thing: The surveillance system. There are human video cameras throughout the museum. The museum mice have tapped into them to monitor the human guards, for their own safety. The mice, that is, not the guards." 

"We know that they can detect us, but that the resolution isn't good enough to show anything better than a mouse shaped blur. Nonetheless, the museum mice know what a mouse shaped blur means even if the human guards do not." 

Lorrie peered closely at the plans through his thick glasses. Finally he looked up. "It is impossible." He declared.

Lawhiney took a slow, deep breath. 

Pierre saw that he had a brief window of opportunity to stop the tirade. "Shaka," He asked, "what do you think?"

"Hey, man. Nothing's impossible." 

"Good boy." Lawhiney purred. "That's the spirit." 

"Right then. With that established, and on such excellent authority, I suggest we get moving. We've all been over our jobs several times, so I know I don't have to remind… oh, very well then. 

"Brandon and I will locate and detain the real Gadget Hackwrench. She doesn't know us, because we've never met." 

Shaka Baka put up his hand. 

"What is it?" Pierre asked, against his better judgement.

"How will you recognise her?" Shaka asked. 

Everyone looked. Not necessarily at Shaka, but everyone looked at someone or something. It beat thinking about the question Shaka had just asked. 

"Don't worry about it. We'll manage." Pierre told him. "Shaka will assemble the equipment we need on the roof of the Seven Eleven across the street. Take the toothbrush and razorblade axe, Shaka. Don't let those Good-feather type pigeons steal any of our equipment.

"Lorrie, you stay on the radio and listen to everything we get from Lawhiney's transmitter. If she says the code phrase: "'Now, let me see'", then that means she needs you to tell her what technical jargon she should use.

"Lawhiney. You will be undertaking the most daring part of the assignment." 

Lawhiney tossed her hair with feigned indifference. 

"First you will enter the headquarters of the Rescue Rangers, alone, unarmed and on foot. You will convince the other Rangers that you are the real Gadget Hackwrench, gain access to the Ranger Plane and you fly it over to the roof of the Seven Eleven where we all meet up. By the time you get there, either we will have Miss Hackwrench securely out of the way or she will be running back to Ranger HQ with a belated warning. Either way, all five of us will go on to the museum. 

"Lawhiney, are you sure Brandon and Lorrie have told you enough to handle the Ranger plane?"

"Yeah, sure. Flaps, rudder, undercarriage, I know the lot." 

Brandon scowled. "I still think I should be the one to fly the plane. She could let me in or lower a rope from one of the windows or something." 

Lawhiney glared at him until Pierre stepped in.

"We've been over that. It's too risky. Besides, Gadget Hackwrench is quite a handful by all accounts. If I can't sweep her off her feet it may be necessary to use force to get her out of the picture."

"Why, Pierre." Lawhiney cooed. "I know some females are immune to your charm but do you mean to tell me that this one is too much for you to handle in a fight as well?" 

"If I were doing this for my own entertainment then I'd be happy to take on Miss Hackwrench on my own; either hand-to-hand, or hand-in-hand, but this is business and we are working to a schedule." Pierre growled. "Now, if there's nothing else? Good, then let us begin. And Shaka?"

"Yes, Pierre?" 

"These plans. Burn them!"

14

It was late afternoon when Gadget had emerged from her room to bid Chip farewell before he left "to visit an old friend who lived out in the country". Gadget didn't challenge the fiction the boys had finally settled on, partly because she was sure Chip had the best intentions and partly because her father had spent many patient hours explaining things like tact and diplomacy to her when she was a small girl, prone to stating the absolute truth without mercy. 

Gadget had reviewed her old diaries, remembering how much she had longed for any kind of contact with her father in the months after his death. There had been the experiments she had devised to reveal the faintest cold spot, the faintest stray magnetic field or the slightest unexplained draught. She had found nothing. She knew her father would not abandon her, so she reasoned the barrier between this life and the next, assuming there was such a thing, was strictly one-way.  

Her fall from the ceiling and the subsequent near mishap with the climbing gear had been a coincidence, then, and if her half serious prayer to her father had reached him he was probably as shocked by the result as she had been. 

Gadget wanted to put the incident out of her mind and carry on with her work but she knew the bruising would be a constant reminder, so instead she had quit for the day. Instead she diverted her attention to the problem of Chip, Monty and their secret discussion. Yes, she had been furious after the "Hawaii Affair" as she called it (to Chip's discomfort). Yes, she had shown her temper during the Koo Koo Cola case (it had been badly timed for her). Yes, she did take her reputation seriously, because her father had taught her that how other people saw her was important, especially people who were your friends and neighbours. There were good reasons for them to keep her out of a case like this and, much as it pained her to admit them, one of them was that the people they usually helped no longer trusted her the way a Rescue Ranger should be trusted. 

It was a beautiful summer day, she noticed for the first time. If the weather held, she might lie down on a sun bed and catch up on her reading later. Face down, of course. But first Gadget was going to see an old friend; one who might be able to help her make life difficult for an impostor who thought she could fool the world into thinking she was Gadget Hackwrench. 

Gadget winced as she eased herself in behind the steering wheel of the Ranger Skate. She wondered if anything, besides sitting on her keys, could be more uncomfortable? Keys. Where were her door keys?

15

Lawhiney stepped out into plain sight and paused for a moment. From four inches above the ground the park playing field seemed to stretch out to the horizon and beyond. There was a tarmac path between her and the cool, waist high grass of the field but it was tempting to stray from the cover of the bushes. She looked around. 

Dare she?

Lawhiney put one foot on the tarmac. Hissing, she snatched it back again. 

The sun had heated tarmac until it was like a griddle. Since neither Gadget nor Lawhiney wore shoes and the path was six feet wide, or in rodent terms five times the width of a family house, the playing field would have to wait for another day.

A human foot slammed down less than an arm's length from her face without warning. The rest of the human whooshed past above her and the foot retracted, sailing up into the air and carrying the human runner onto his next stride. 

Lawhiney's every muscle was ridged with shock. 

The danger had passed so quickly that she hadn't had time to move. She looked at the park with new eyes. 

Bright, blinding sunlight. The sounds of human children at play, large, dangerous and unpredictable. Huge, wide-open spaces with precious little shelter from hawks or cats. Ravenous dogs, ready to run wild with delight at the scent of rodent terror. Just a few of the dangers the park represented to its small, furry visitors.

Scowling after the human, Lawhiney muttered a few well-chosen Hawaiian curses. She was fortunate that they already knew where the Ranger's Headquarters were. That alone was something only a very few of the Rescue Ranger's enemies had ever achieved but Lawhiney's Lawbreakers were no slouches. They all had experience of deception and none of them were known in the city; it had been a morning's work for Brandon and Lorrie to stage a scene to convinced two or three locals that Brandon was a gangster who wished to steal Lorrie's latest invention. After the scene Lorrie quickly received the sympathy of the on lookers and directions to the Rescue Ranger's Headquarters.

Lawhiney was in sight of the tree now. She found the stairs at the base of the tree as discretely as possible. Nothing would give her away faster than one of the other Rangers seeing "Gadget" having trouble finding her own front door. She stopped to adjust her hair and took a deep breath. 

According to the digital watch Pierre had given her, it was three o'clock. The museum closed at six and the robbery had to begin at ten to the hour. Time to get to work.

Confidence. That was the key.

16

Monty stood with his arms folded, face stern, glaring down at the impostor. "Just who do you think you are?" his heavy Australian accent thundered.

Dale posed like a late night movie gumshoe and looked up at the fedora on his head. "Um, ah…?" He had to think quickly, or he was in big trouble. Actually, to be technically accurate, he was already in big trouble. "Please don't tell anyone?" He hazarded. 

"You know very well Chipper left that hat in my care! Hand it over. Dale Oakwood, I'm surprised at you." Unnoticed, the front door opened. "Picking locks and snooping where you don't belong!" 

Dale meekly surrendered Chip's prized Fedora, which Chip had left locked in a draw so he could travel incognito. He was just in the act of passing the hat over when the front door opened. 

Gadget stood there, beautiful in the sunlight, holding a bent piece of wire in one hand. Her expression was startled and embarrassed. She looked from Dale and Monty to the piece of wire. 

"I forgot my keys, that's all." She explained. 

"Oh. Hi Gadget. Me and Dale was just about to have a conversation."

Dale gulped. He had hoped the conversation was over. 

"I'll just go and look for them." Gadget said and hesitantly walked past them into the kitchen. 

Monty glared at Dale. "We'll continue this later." He rumbled.

A moment later Dale joined Gadget in the kitchen. She was tossing her keys lightly from hand to hand. He had an unhappy, nervous look, as though he expected to be hit over the head at any moment. 

"Gee, I'm sure glad you walked in like that." He said.

"Really? Perhaps you can do me a favour in return?" 

"Sure. Anything but testing one of your new inventions. I have an urgent appointment somewhere else if it's testing one of your new inventions."

"I just need your advice on the Ranger plane." 

"Huh!? I mean, really? My advice?" Dale goggled at her; his eyes bright and his tail waging like a propeller.

"Um, yes." Gadget confirmed, sounding a little bit weary. 

"Hey, wait a minute, just stay right there. I've got to get Monty." 

Gadget swallowed. "Is that really necessary?" she asked, but Dale had already run off.

When Monty was bustled into the kitchen Gadget was trying to open the window. 

"Ah." She said, turning around. "I was just trying to open the window. It's such a beautiful day. I thought I'd get some air in here but window's stuck."

"Yes," Monty agreed, "it's been that way since you fixed it to open automatically whenever someone set fire to something. I could light up a kitchen towel in the sink if you really want to let some air in." 

"Ah ha. Of course, how could I forget?"

"Tell him what you said, Gadget! I want him to hear!" Dale pranced from one foot to the other with excitement. 

"What, what did I say?" 

"About the Ranger plane!"

"Oh, that. I just asked for your advice about it."

Monty's jaw dropped. 

"I mean; I'm the mechanic. I can ask anyone's advice that I want to, right?" Gadget smiled winningly. 

"Uh, sure you can, Gadget, luv." Monty's hand smoothly brushed the hair out of her eyes and settled on her forehead for a moment or so. "Seems normal." He muttered.

"Good. So, as long as that's settled, I can go about my… that is I can get back to work."

"Gadget, luv, I thought you were going to take the day off?" Monty whimpered.

"Well, I, uh, changed my mind. Because it's such a beautiful day and all." She turned up the smile. "I mean, who wouldn't want to be working with the sun out and the non-predatory birds singing?" 

"Certainly sounds like Gadget…" Monty murmured.

"Come on, Gadget! I want to start giving you advice right away!" Dale grabbed her paw and began to lead her up to the hanger.

"Heh! Well, the lad can certainly talk as fast as Gadget." Monty mused. His eyes turned heavenwards. "Gewgaw, your little girl's grown up enough to know her own mind. I just hope she is making excuses to spend time with Dale. I'd hate to fly in a something Gadget based on Dale's imagination!" 

17

"Say Gadget, you smell different." Dale observed. 

"I'm wearing perfume." 

"It doesn't smell like perfume. I thought you only wore perfume and make up on special occasions." 

"If I didn't test it out, I wouldn't know whether it was good enough for a special occasion." Gadget reasoned. 

"Oh. Okay."

They had reached the door at the top of the curving staircase that lead to the hanger. Dale had led the way the whole time. Gadget hadn't objected to him holding her hand. He looked at her and smiled. Chip was always around taking up her time. Any time Dale got a moment with her, Chip told him he was in the way. He hoped he didn't say anything stupid when he started to give her advice. 

"Well, here we are." He said opening the door to the ranger wing. 

"Great. Thanks… Dale." 

"Uh, it weren't nothing." Dale replied. He didn't know what he was being thanked for but a thank-you from Gadget wasn't something to turn down. "What did you want to know?" 

"Um. The back seat. How comfortable would you say it is back there?" Gadget wondered. 

"What? Oh." Dale thought. "It's not as comfortable as the front seat. The one next to yours." He said slyly. 

Gadget's lips twitched. She was already smiling but the twitch seemed to change it into another kind of smile. One Dale wasn't used to seeing.

"Shall we test it?" Gadget asked him.

"Sure. Uh, you haven't made any changes to it have you? You haven't turned it into an ejector seat or put a trapdoor underneath?" 

"Not that I recall." She answered carefully.

"Well then, I'd be happy to." With that, Dale hopped right into the rear seat of the Ranger plane. He was trying various positions when he felt the sudden presence of someone on the seat next to him. Gadget was sitting besides him, her hands folded loosely in her lap, smiling at him from the corner of her eye.

"Uh, what kind of testing did you have in mind?" 

Gadget winced sharply and put her head to one side as if something had bitten her ear. 

"Are you alright?" 

"Uh, yeah." Gadget assured him. "I just got a pain in the neck for a second. I thought we might try bouncing up and down for a while, see how strong the springs are."

"Golly, that sounds like fun." 

Gadget smiled coyly and slid the goggles off her head. She was just running her hand through her hair when the seat began to shake and squeak violently. Dale was repeatedly dropping his whole weight onto the upholstery from a half-standing position. "Dale!" She cried. 

"Hey, this is fun, Gadget! What are you waiting for?"

Gadget's expression went from amazed, to blank, to disbelief in a few scant seconds. Then, with crooked smile, she began bouncing in time with Dale. The entire ranger plane shook and rattled until she thought the plane would bounce down the end of the runway and take off. She suddenly had a vision of Monterey Jack sitting downstairs on their sofa, or standing with his arms in a bowl of washing up, bewildered and embarrassed as furniture rocked and bounced in time to the deafening, rhythmic, impossible to ignore thumping coming from upstairs. It was too much for her. She began laughing. Uncontrollably. 

She couldn't bounce and laugh at the same time. So she stopped. After a few breathless seconds, Dale stopped too. 

"That was fun. Can we test something else now?" Dale grinned at her. 

"Sure, Dale. What did you have in mind?" Gadget cocked an eyebrow at him.

"I don't know. How about the inflatable life raft? It has a little tent! I've always wanted to try it out but Chip says it would take too long to put away again and we might need it at short notice."

"Okay. Ow." 

"Is your ear hurting you?" Dale asked, concerned. 

"Uh, yes. Dale, could you be a sweetheart and get an aspirin from the medicine cabinet for me?"

"Sure!" Dale tore out of the room as if his tail were on fire. 

Gadget smiled after him with a sigh. "He's clueless but he's cute." She hopped into the front seat and reached back for her goggles. Patting the control stick, she whispered: "Come on baby, let's go for a little ride." 

18

The Popsicle stick door opened to reveal Gadget Hackwrench, standing in the broad daylight with the dizzying blur of busy human feet hurrying back and forth behind her. 

"Hiya, girlfriend! Long time no see!" 

"Gadget!" 

The two mice embraced, laughing.

Gadget had known Jennifer Talbert-Hall since they were eight, when Gewgaw had taken her to England. Jennifer's mother, Sandra Talbert-Hall, had been like a mother to Gadget and Jennifer had been like a sister to her. That had lasted all of three months. After that, came nearly ten years of silence.

Jen had been a bratty, spoilt teenager when Gadget saw her next at age seventeen. Gewgaw had still been alive and had moved them both to Coney Island for reasons Gadget had never been able to get a satisfactory explanation for. Gadget and Jen had both been frustrated with their single parents, who were distracted enough by each other to let their respective daughters run wild for six weeks. 

Then Sandra had suddenly taken Jen home to England again and almost immediately afterwards Gadget and her father had gone to California. By the time father and daughter returned to their permanent home, in the ruined aircraft at the end of the runway, Gewgaw had less than a year to live.

"How are you? And when are you going to introduce me to those boys of yours?" 

"They can't both be my boys, Jen." Gadget told her bashfully. 

"Oooh. Sounds like bad news for one of them!" Jen teased. 

"Then you know more than I do." Gadget replied with pursed lips. Normally she especially hated this kind of teasing. She had heard it so many times when she was growing up but Jen had been there before and knew how far she could push it without crossing the line. 

Jen let the subject drop. 

"I had a near miss with one of my inventions this morning. So I decided to leave work for the day and, since I know that you only work in the evenings…"

"Nothing serious, I hope?" 

"Oh, just some bruises to my pride and my, uh-" Gadget eased herself onto the cushion she had placed on one of Jen's armchairs. 

"Oh, Gadget! Your pride and your pride, by the look of it! Dare I ask what happened?" Jen laughed.

Gadget winced and began to talk. Jen listened. She was impressed by her friend's mechanical skill, which she had only learned to admire as an adult, and listened to stories about Gadget's work with fascinated incomprehension. When Gadget got to the part about listening to her friend's conversation, however, Jen had to intrude.

"Gadget, I'm so glad you told me that. I was so worried about you, with all the stories I've been hearing." 

"What are they saying, Jen? Monty and Chip were too polite to say and my imagination is running crazy."

"Well, I don't like to say. You really want to know?"

Gadget nodded, earnestly. 

"Well, I didn't believe a word of it and I know a lot of people who feel the same way. My boss, even, and I've never once given him credit for a decent bone in his body. Of course, some of those people are swapping the stories anyway. "'Did you hear this rubbish they're spouting about her now?'" and then they get to pass on whatever salacious lie they've heard or just made up. A lot of people hear the rumours and just don't care one way or the other."

"But the rumours, Jen. What are they? What are people saying about me?"

Jen stared at her friend for a moment. "A lot of it is just male fantasy, I'm sure. Gadget showed up in this place or that place and fell in love with a local boy, or just, you know, did it with him and disappeared. Gadget put on a strip tease in some place when the bank was robbed and the crooks got away because everyone was watching. Ridiculous. Only complete idiots would take it seriously. Mind you, complete idiots aren't as rare as you would like to think." Jen frowned. Gadget had never acknowledged the powers of stupidity and ignorance as much as she should have in Jen's opinion. 

Gadget stared at her in horror. "Strip tease?"

"I've only heard that one once. The most common one at the moment seems to be that you organized a collection to benefit an orphanage somewhere up north. Only after the fundraiser you had to go back to Rescue Ranging and took the money with you. I keep hearing that one like it's not going to go away. To tell the truth, it gave me a couple of nasty moments. I can just picture you doing something noble and then getting distracted by an emergency." 

"You! You mean, you, who know me? Who's been my friend for years?"

"Oh, love. Please. I wouldn't have told you if it wasn't for the fact you asked. Gadget, not all of us can be as… certain of life as you are. Sometimes it's difficult to remember what your heart already knows. Please don't be cross with me for one moment of doubt."

"I'm not mad at you. I'm not mad at Chip and Monty, for keeping this a secret. I'm not mad at the people who are spreading these rumours because they don't know any better." Gadget turned back to face Jen, her eyes gleaming with cold fury. "I am mad at the person who has done this to my reputation, to my friends, to the people who have been robbed."

Jen shifted uncomfortably. "Do you want to talk about something else?"

"No. Ooooh, I'm sorry, Jen! If I could lay hands on whoever's doing this I could just… well, I'd probably do something to be ashamed of." 

"But nothing they don't deserve, I'm sure." Jen smiled at her. 

"Jen, I need your help." Gadget said, not wanting to put it off any longer. 

"Do you want me to check to see how bad your bruises are?" Jen asked, sympathetically. 

"Uh, no. But that might be a good idea now you mention it. What I actually had in mind was if you could give me a makeover."

"A makeover?" Jen blinked, surprised.

"I figure that if I don't look like Gadget Hackwrench myself, the impostor won't know how to impersonate me."

Jen clapped her hands together. "Gadget, that's brilliant!"

"And once I show the boys my new look, they'll be so pleased with my solution, they won't ask any questions about me hearing their conversation!"

"This is going to be fun, Gadget. I've always wanted to give you a makeover, but you're so reluctant to encourage more admirers than you got already."

"I always hate rejecting people. Especially if they just want to you to like them back and you can't, at least, not without lying to them or hurting their feelings further down the line. But you've always said I should let you do a makeover on me, so I thought of you right away."

Jen smiled at her friend. "Oh, Gadget. How do you stay so sweet when people keep making life so difficult for you?" 

"Aw, Jen. I have bad days too. You should have seen me the time that guy Bubbles got under my skin." 

For a second, a mournful expression crossed Gadget's face. Jen took her by the paw. "Hey, let's go up to my room and get started." She said, kindly. "I'm just dying to see you in a couple of my mini-skirts and I have some hair dye. You'll look completely different! Why I bet I can make your hair nearly auburn!" 

Together, the two disappeared up the stairs, chatting amiably. 

19

Pierre tilted the trilby he was wearing so that it seemed to cover his eyes. Beside him, but not so close that they were obviously together, Brandon squinted into the light. Gadget Hackwrench had left the tree house at the most convenient moment they could have hoped for. Brandon had worried that she would spoil their plans by staying indoors all day, making it impossible for Lawhiney to impersonate her and increasing the risk of them being noticed by the minute. 

Instead Gadget had visited someone. Not a shop or a public building but a small home amongst many small homes. Pierre hadn't been able to see who had answered the door but he found himself wanting to know who lived there and how Gadget knew that person. It wasn't simply idle curiosity, he reflected. If she were visiting a sweetheart, the tactics they had decided on to intercept her would be affected. 

"I say we should just march over and kick the door down." 

Pierre looked sideways at Brandon. He had not heard the biker close the gap between them and they made an unlikely pair. A tall French brown rat dressed in fine a fine silk suit and twirling a flower in his hand as though waiting for a lady who was a little late, talking to a muscular mouse in a black leather bomber jacket and boots. It was the sort of combination that people remembered, unfortunately. 

"We just go in and take care of her and whoever's with her. Simple." 

Pierre sighed. "Whoever's in there might be a rattlesnake or a martial arts expert for all we know. What if it's not one person? There could be three or four people. Even if they aren't fighters, it only takes one screamer to raise the alarm." 

Brandon hung his head. "Yeah, I know. So we just wait?" 

Pierre considered. "No. I think we can spend our time a little more profitably than that." 

20

When Gadget left her friend's home, she was wearing in a red mini-dress with a hemline just low enough not to seriously embarrass her if she bent over to pick something up. She had already decided to leave anything she dropped right where it was, just in case. The dress matched Gadget's new hair-dye well but Jen had a smaller chest than Gadget did so the bust-line was tighter and left more on display than Gadget was comfortable with. 

Gadget's hair was naturally a light, strawberry blonde colour, which Gadget disliked because, as an engineer, she preferred things to be one thing or the other and a strawberry blonde was neither a blonde, nor a redhead. Jen's hair-dye had left Gadget's hair a very deep red that she had always wanted to try but had never had the nerve to. She had used milder hair-dyes before but she usually had more important things to do than sit around with a towel on her head. 

She smiled nervously as she passed the first rodent since leaving Jen's apartment, a male who glanced at her without breaking stride. If Gadget had looked over her shoulder after she passed him, she would have seen the mouse turn and watch her retreating form with a smile. 

By the time Gadget reached the place where she had left the Ranger skate her confidence had grown considerably. It wasn't the first time in her life she had worn a good-looking dress in public, after all. In fact, she had worn them all the time before her father- Gadget squelched the line of thought before it could ruin the remains of her day. 

She could have allowed herself the thought after all. The sight of the empty space where the Ranger skate should have been ruined it anyway. 

  


21

Pierre carefully avoided looking directly at Gadget as he walked towards her. She was staring at the empty space with a dismayed expression, perhaps hoping that she taken a wrong turn or walked past it while she was lost in thought. Just as he was about to pass her, Pierre turned his head to look at her, and slowed his pace. But he didn't stop. 

She ignored him. 

Pierre kept walking a little way, then stopped and turned back. He heard a muffled groan. Gadget had buried her face in her hands. 

"Pardon, Mademoiselle? Is everything alright?" He enquired, the picture of a concerned stranger.

"Hm? Oh! Uh, yes. Well, no, actually. But I don't need help or anything." 

"If you're quiet sure?"

Gadget sighed. "I've just got to get the bus home, that's all."

"Ah, those were friends of yours and they have left without you. It is an outrage. They should be more considerate to a beautiful young lady. It isn't the same for a young male, they don't face the same problems on their own." 

"Excuse me?" Gadget blinked, her mind changing gears rapidly. "Whom are you talking about?"

Pierre blinked and appeared flustered. He looked from one side to the other and, seeing no one he could appeal to for help, turned back to Gadget apologetically. "I know I am old fashioned, that the way I put things maybe clumsy, but surely it is obvious I am referring to you when I talk of a beautiful young lady."

"I meant no offence." He added quickly. "If you are one of these so unfeminine feminists I have no wish to quarrel with you."

"No, no. I meant who are these friends you were talking about?" Gadget was half convinced the Ranger skate had been stolen and half concerned that Monty and Dale had needed it for something so badly that they had come this far to find it. As she struggled with two possibilities, she let the double compliment slip past unquestioned. 

"The three young mice who drove off in the vehicle that was parked here. Who else?" 

"Mice? What did they look like?" 

"I didn't really notice. I was looking for a café bar near here, called the Wild Palms. I have an appointment to meet with my sister there. I suppose they were your age, perhaps younger, now I think about it." He bent his legs to be closer to her level. "But surely you know what your own friends look like?"

"Those don't sound like the friends I have, at least, not the ones who would drive the Ranger skate away."

"Pardon? The what?"

"The- my vehicle. It's called the Ranger-" Gadget broke off as she realised what she would have to do. "Look, I'm sorry, Mr…?" 

"Pierre. Everyone calls me Pierre." 

Gadget smiled up at him. "I'm going to have to ask you to give me all the details you can remember. I'm afraid my vehicle has been stolen and it could be by some very dangerous criminals." 

"Merde. You think so? But, you will forgive me, I have no wish to get mixed up in such a thing and I am supposed to meet my sister at this place I cannot find. No, no. I must bid you good day." Pierre backed away, his upturned palms of his hands towards her in a helpless gesture.

"Perhaps we could help each other, then. What café was it you were looking for again?"

"The Wild Palms." 

"The Wild Palms. Yes, I think I passed that on my way. I'll take you there and ask a few questions while you wait for your sister. Hopefully, it was just cubs out for a joyride."  

The Wild Palms turned out to be more bar than café. Built under a human café of the same name, it had been decorated with discarded cocktail decorations and was lit with a string of fairy lights from a Christmas tree. Gadget found them a booth while Pierre insisted on getting them three drinks, one for his sister, who had yet to appear. 

"Voila!" He announced as he sat down across the table from her. "My sister says you can not get good coffee in the States. But I asked the bartender if he had any good French coffee and here we are. She misses it terribly, she will be delighted." 

"I'm glad to hear it, but there was really no need to get me one as well." 

"Not at all, you have had a miserable day, with your flounder being stolen." 

"Flounder? Oh, no. We don't call it a skate after the fish…" Gadget caught herself. "You're teasing me." She accused.

"Just trying to make you smile. I know my English is sometimes the cause for laughter. A little laughter makes our burdens easier to bear. If you really don't want your coffee I'm sure my sister will drink it for you."

Gadget smiled. It had been almost six hours since her last cup and some of the best coffee she had ever tasted had been on her trip to France. She took a mouthful of coffee and almost choked on it. Spluttering and coughing she quickly put the cup down again. 

Pierre, his face puzzled and worried, put his paw on hers. "Are you unwell?"

"This is French Coffee!" 

"Mai Oui! I said-"

"I mean it's got brandy in it!" 

"Brandy? But I specifically told that barman…" Pierre sniffed his own cup, then his sister's.

"Surely you know what French coffee is? No, wait. They wouldn't call it that in France, would they? Surely you've heard of Russian coffee, or Irish coffee?" 

"Ah, of course. And I thought my sister had simply been lazy in her search for good coffee. Forgive me, Miss…?"

"Gadget. Gadget Hackwrench." She told him. "I really don't drink alcohol, ever. Except on very special occasions when I know I'm not going to need a clear head and it would be antisocial not to." 

"Ah, well. I'm sorry." Pierre looked pointedly at her cup and then to the wallet that in his hand. "Do you want me to get you something else?" 

"No, that's alright. I best just ask my questions and get out of your way."

"By all means."

"First of all, what is you're full name and where can I get in touch with you?" 

"Pierre Michelle-Caine. I am staying at the Grand Hotel, under the big cheese plant in the lobby, but just for three days. Then I'm going back to Normandy. The hotel mice will be able to give you my forwarding address."

"You said there were three mice?" 

"That I saw, yes. I'm sorry, you seem to have a bad taste in your mouth?"

"No, I'm alright."

"You're sure you don't want anything to wash it out?"

"I really couldn't." 

"It's quite alright, it was my mistake. I insist. If only to give the barman a piece of my mind."

"It really wasn't his fault."

Pierre looked at her. "You mean it was my fault."

"What, no!"

"It's quite alright, I understand. Your restraint is admirable. You're clearly having a difficult day and it was my fault. I feel very bad." He hung his head.

"Please don't." Gadget almost whined. 

"Let me get you a lemonade. That is the same over here, isn't it?" 

"Yes. I mean it's the same, I don't-" But Pierre was already walking back to the bar. Gadget sighed heavily. What was going on today, she wondered. Everything had been going wrong since she had overheard that dratted conversation. 

Pierre returned with a tall glass in his hand. She took it gratefully and drank a long draft immediately. A slight frown crossed her face. It tasted funny. There was an aftertaste more like bitter lemon than lemonade. Must be the brandy, she thought. She couldn't say anything without making him think she was after another drink. 

The effect from the mouthful of brandy coffee she had swallowed seemed to get stronger with an alarming speed. True, she wasn't used to it but, even so, Gadget was surprised one swallow of French coffee could have such an effect on her.

"Now, what were those questions?" He asked, looking deep into her eyes.

"Uh, yesh. Where was I? Oh, yeah. These mice, could you describe them for me?"

"Well, one of them had black fur with one big white patch on his face and he wore bright red shorts and braces. He seemed to be in charge. But the other two were albino mice and wore nothing at all, like they had just escaped from a lab or something. One of them was very tall and thin with a long snout and a red nose. The other was much shorter, but he had a huge head and a sour expression." 

Gadget frowned. "They sound familiar." 

"Aren't you going to finish your drink?"

Gadget took another sip of lemonade. The brandy had given her a very pleasant warm feeling. She found herself finishing the glass, although she hadn't meant to. 

"Thank you. That was nice." She said. 

"Don't you want to ask me any more questions?"

"What? Oh yes. Questions. Dear me, yes. Questions. What would Chip ask?" 

"Was that the question?"

"Huh? No, of course not. Did you hear the mice who stole my skate say anything?"

"No. I was too far away. Even if I had been closer, I never eavesdrop the private conversations of other people. Respecting other people's privacy is one of the most important parts of civilized behaviour." 

Gadget gulped and stared at him. Pierre hooded his eyes and pretended not to notice. He knew he had just put a foot wrong somehow but couldn't think how. 

"Is something amiss?" He enquired, when Gadget didn't speak.

"No. Everything's fine."

"Your coffee is getting cold." He prompted. 

Still dazed from the casual condemnation from the well-mannered stranger, Gadget took a second sip of brandy coffee before she remembered why she had abandoned it. 

"Oh." She said, staring into her cup. "Well, I might as well finish it now." So she did. 

While she was distracted, Pierre looked over to the bar where Brandon was waiting. They both winked. 

Gadget found herself talking things through with Pierre, who turned out to be a much better listener than most of the people she knew. Even when she launched into a detailed description of how the Ranger skate worked he nodded and smiled without looking puzzled or yawning once. Part of her gradually became aware that she was, in fact, doing all the talking. Pierre didn't seem to mind. 

A rugged but good-looking mouse bought another tray of drinks over. Gadget accepted one happily and by the time she finished it her fingers were tingling. Someone started playing music somewhere and Gadget stood up, delighted by the tune. She hadn't heard anything so lively in years, she thought. Why hadn't she got any music of her own to listen to back at the tree house? Dale had his heavy metal; Chip occasionally listened to classical music and opera. Even Monty had been known to play the didgeridoo on rare occasions.

Her feet were tapping in time to the music and Gadget found that she was almost dancing in her seat. The mouse who had brought over the second tray of drinks stepped up and asked her to dance with a wink and a grin. She giggled and looked at Pierre. 

"I do not think the lady wishes-"

"Do you?" The mouse asked again.

"Yes." Gadget agreed, without thinking about it at all. She hadn't had this much fun in ages. 

The mouse who had invited her to dance was about her age and wore a bomber jacket Chip would have envied. It was shining black leather and clearly modelled on a motorcyclist's jacket. He was well muscled, clean and pleasantly good looking even if his expression was a little surly. Gadget, who didn't normally notice such things, found she wanted to know a great deal about him. 

Her grin got wider and the music got louder. 

Pierre grabbed Brandon's arm and hissed into his ear: "What the hell do you think you're doing?" 

"Relax, Pierre. Your accent's slipping. I just want to have a little fun." 

"You could ruin everything. What if she collapses from the drug we slipped her in front of everyone? How would we get her out of here?"

"You're the one who came in with her, no one's going to suspect a thing." 

"But they'll remember it! What happens when Chip Maplewood comes asking- Oh, Mon Deux!"

Brandon spun to follow Pierre's gaze. But it was too late. To the applause of the afternoon customers, Gadget Hackwrench had started dancing on a table.

Pierre and Brandon watched from the fringe of the crowd. "We must get her out of here." Pierre said. 

Brandon didn't argue. "I could start a fight as a distraction." 

"It might work. Wait, someone's trying to get her down."  

"That's the bartender." 

They both watched, agog, as the bartender managed to get both arms around Gadget's legs only to have her misunderstand his motives and start hammering on his head with her fists. The patrons began booing the bartender with vigour.  

"This could turn ugly." Brandon said with a frown.

Across the room, the bartender lost his balance and stumbled, still holding Gadget above his shoulders. Abruptly, she toppled over, scrabbling for something to hang onto. She found herself with her arms around the neck of a customer, who hugged her back enthusiastically, her legs still captured by the bartender and her body stretched out in between. Uncomfortably stretched, as the bartender started walking towards the fire exit and the customer responded by pulling in the other direction. 

Brandon sighed, picked up a barstool and waded in. 

Pierre disliked violence. He always took the view that someone might get hurt and, statistically, if he were around it often enough, that someone would eventually be him. Even so, he had acquired enough experience to resist the temptation to put a hand over his eyes, as his almost perfect seduction became a minor riot. He stepped to one side as a bottle flew past. As a rat, he had the size and strength to considerable damage to almost any patron in the café but he was wearing his best suit. He discretely ducked into the booth he and Gadget had shared. 

As the sounds of the fight became louder and more violent he sipped at his own, non-drugged French Coffee and wondered just what they did call it in France. He would have to go there one day. After this was over, perhaps. The bartender staggered past, Gadget riding on his shoulders and hammering at his head with one of her shoes. I deserve a holiday, Pierre thought, shaking his head. A broken bottle sailed into the edge of the booth and shattered. 

"Pierre, get out here and help me!" Brandon yelled.

"Coming." Pierre called back and finished his coffee. 

The problem with Brandon's enthusiasm in a fight was that people who had been fighting each other quickly formed alliances against him out of self-defence. When Pierre emerged from the booth the biker mouse was still standing, with one mouse on his back trying for a headlock, another biting his tail and a third clinging to his legs. A fourth was throwing punches at Brandon's face and chest with no effect. 

Pierre swung his cane like a club and made the fourth mouse's head vibrate like a gong. Brandon threw off the mouse who had been clinging to his back while the others were goggling at the Pierre. Pierre caught him and threw him at a rat that had been stomping towards them. 

Brandon was kicking the mouse who was clinging to his legs repeatedly. The one who had been biting his tail was in a headlock. 

Gadget's bartender had run outside to get rid of her. Now he ran back in, Gadget still in place on his shoulders but battering on his head with the bar sign instead of her shoe. 

The sounds of law and order were coming from outside. They were unmistakable. Brandon and Pierre looked at each other with unspoken agreement. Time to go.

The bartender ran under a human made handheld fan that hung from the ceiling. As the fan turned, one of the blades neatly skewered the balsawood bar sign Gadget was hitting the bartender with and yanked it out of her hands. Pierre had time to take one step towards her and then the spinning motion of the fan brought the sign round again and hit Gadget squarely on the side of the head. 

Both Gadget and the bartender fell sideways, Gadget snagging the fairy lights as she went. There was an ear-splitting crash as the fairy lights pulled the mini bar that completely filled one side of the bar away from the wall until it toppled over. 

Three chipmunks and a squirrel stood in the door of the bar, wearing blue grey uniforms of the neighbourhood peacekeepers.  

"That's it." Brandon said, clutching Pierre's arm. Together they fled through the fire exit. 

The peacekeepers remained where they were as the majority of the customers who could still walk sneaked out the back. It made their jobs easier. Eventually the squirrel stomped into the middle of the room. 

"Alright, who started this?" he demanded. 

Half a dozen hands pointed towards a prone figure on the floor. The squirrel looked at a sweet face surrounded by a mass of red hair and blinking multi-coloured lights. 

"It's always the ones who look like butter wouldn't melt in their mouths." He shook his head. 

A trembling figure wearing an apron stood up, his head a mass of lumps and bruises. His voice shaking, he faced the peacekeeper. 

"I want her charged!"

The squirrel nodded patiently. 

The four peacekeepers surrounded the hapless, unconscious female. One of the chipmunks nudged her bare foot with his own. The mousemaid moaned. 

"Miss?" 

"Huh?" she answered.

"We have to arrest you now. Could you tell us your name?"

"Gadg'. 'adget 'ackwrench." 

The squirrel drew forward, interestedly. "Really." He said smoothly. "Is that right? We've been looking for you for a while…"

22

Lawhiney scowled. They were later than they should have been. How long did it take for someone to ask directions while someone else swung a sock full of iron filings? 

Pierre showed up at a run. The way he and Brandon barred the door to the roof was not a good sign.

"Ahhhrrrgghh." Lorrie wailed. "I knew it, it's always the same. There's an angry mob with blazing matches and forks downstairs, isn't there?"

"Uh, no. We're just being careful." Brandon assured him after blinking at Pierre.

"Oh. Then forget I said anything. Heh, heh." The mole replied. 

"Where is Gadget Hackwrench?" Lawhiney's mind was on the important things, as always.

"Probably in jail. Or possibly the hospital." Pierre replied. 

"Ah. That's okay then." She stayed in the pilot's seat of the Ranger plane. 

"Um, do you want to move over?" Brandon suggested. 

"No. You seem to be forgetting- I'm the only one with flight experience in this thing." She said, smugly. 

The flight to the museum was a breeze. Lawhiney's smile grew wider as they went. She couldn't believe that she had spent this long assuming that something as simple as flying a plane was beyond her. Especially when she had learned to drive a ground vehicle through the chaos that humans called city traffic. Up here, the sky was clear. The nearest thing to crash into was the ground and that was all of- oh, it had to be at least seventy feet away. And the details she could see. Being a passenger was great, but as pilot, she decided where they went. Admittedly, in this case that was a little limited, but even so, a whole new world had opened up to her. 

All too soon the roof of the museum beckoned to them. The sun was sinking and they had to land before it closed. Lawhiney circled it twice, partly to enjoy herself, partly to make sure the roof was clear and that the Ranger plane was seen by anyone watching. There was an added bonus to using a vehicle belonging to people who were universally respected. 

They landed smoothly at precisely ten to five. The roof alarms were active but ignored what humans would have assumed was a large seagull as it swept overhead. The lawbreakers jumped out of the plane one at a time, remembering the pressure pads underfoot. Shaka carried the glasscutter and suction cups. Pierre carried the rope, which amounted to a coil the thickness of his own body. Brandon had everything else they needed and Lawhiney stayed in the plane. For a quick getaway. If needed.

She tightened her grip on the controls. 

It was all going too smoothly for her liking. There had to be catch, she thought. Apart from Gadget being arrested, which was just too good to be true. Admittedly it gave her an alibi, but it was one that would still leave her reputation in shreds. 

Brandon nodded to her after the equipment was unloaded and ran for the only easy entrance to the museum. If he hurried he could be down the drainpipe and in as an early visitor in time to sneak off to a smoke detector and set off the fire alarm. The humans had to be got out of the way somehow.

Lorrie rigged up the winch system while Pierre opened the glasscutter and glued one of the suction cups onto the stained glass window. Almost ready now. He looked at the others and nodded. 

Shaka Baka was the adrenalin junky. They strung him up above a fatal fall and probable life sentence. His entire body was clad in a body stocking made from a single cotton sock, which they had then dyed black for the look of the thing. Around his waist was a belt harness made from an elastic band; it looked solid but a human had still discarded it because it hadn't looked strong enough to reuse. 

Well, what did humans know anyway?

Together they waited for the first sign that Brandon had been successful or had been captured. At ten to five, it came. The clatter of the fire alarm became audible even through the thick glass of the window. Pierre cut the glass, using all his strength to pull free a circle as wide as he was tall. 

Shaka was already hanging in position over the hole but before he was lowered into the abyss the others joined him in looking into the room below. It was huge drop for a mouse to be faced with. Most mice would only ever dangle over such a drop if they were carried off by a hawk. 

"Sweet Heavens above, although in this case not very far above, am I glad it's you going down there and not me." Pierre whispered breathlessly.

"Cowabunga" Shaka shouted as he disappeared into the museum.

It was a full second before the others realised that there was no one crewing the winch to stop Shaka plunging to his death.  

Lorrie threw himself on the rapidly spinning winch handle but didn't have the weight to do anything except get thrown off again. Pierre flung his cane into the mechanism. The cogs bit down on it with an ugly grinding sound and the contraption screamed to a halt.

Below, Shaka found himself flung upwards like a bungee jumper as the elastic band around his waist stretched and contracted. He dangled, helpless in the centre of the domed roof, each infrared sensor an equal distance from him. He had to be back up through the stained glass window before they were turned on at five o'clock, otherwise he would be detected and the alarm would go off.

He checked the digital watch face strapped to his forearm. It was flashing 12:00. Shaka blinked at it. Looked like Lorrie had forgotten to set it. Still, they had dropped him through the window at ten minutes to five, right? So he had until the watch read 12:10 to do the job and get out. Shaka nodded, satisfied with his reasoning and pleased that he had been smart enough to think things through clearly.

A faint sound from above reached his ears. He shifted his balance so that he until he could look in that direction. Suddenly there came jerk on the line. Brandon would have said there was already a jerk on the line but Shaka didn't see him down here. No way. The thought made him smile. Lawhiney might flirt with other guys and maybe, sometimes, she did more than flirt but Shaka knew that he was the only one she could depend on.

Shaka began moving downwards again, more slowly than before but at a steady rate. He drew the suction arrow from the equipment pack on his back. 

A human walked under him, so close that Shaka could have stepped on to the guard's hat. Shaka froze. That was the guard checking on the Tin-Can Island crown at the end of the day. He had to get out of sight before the man turned and saw a handsome, well-built mouse floating in midair. Humans didn't react well to seeing things like that. Usually the consequences were worse for the mouse than the human.

Shaka began yanking the line frantically. After what seemed an eternity someone came to peep in through the hole in the window and see what the problem was. It was Lawhiney. Shaka's frantic gestures earned him an uncomprehending stare.

Finally Shaka saluted, pointed to where the guard was out of sight and then made frantic gestures to him and the top of the dome. Lawhiney seemed to get it, at last, and a moment later Shaka was moving skyward again. 

The guard passed back underneath a few seconds later, allowing Shaka to let out a breath he hadn't realised that he had been holding. 

Lawhiney reappeared at the window and nodded in response to Shaka's thumbs up sign. 

A minute later Shaka was aiming a suction-cup dart cannon powered by a breath freshening aerosol cylinder at a prearranged spot on the wall behind the crown. Lorrie had admitted that the crossbow in the Ranger plane was a better design than his own but this was the one Shaka had practiced with. 

The pop and hiss of spearmint gas escaping was heartbreakingly loud in the now empty display room. Shaka held his breath, partly to listen for an alarm being raised and partly to avoid choking on the suffocating smell humans liked to fire directly into their mouths. 

After another minute or two, the air seemed to clear. Shaka couldn't hear any activity coming from the ground but he knew there had to be some by this time. He slipped the human contact lens that Lorrie had coated with red ink over one eye like an eye patch. "Ah-ha, Jim, dude!" he chuckled to himself. 

The spent breath freshener began making its way up towards the roof, by way of it's own fishing twine. 

A minute later another, much larger spray can made it's way down. 

Shaka turned the screw valve someone had installed and the room began to fill with a fine mist. Through his red "eye patch" he could see the lasers protecting the room had not yet been activated. He smiled and started to haul himself along the line that was attached to the dart he had fired. 

Far above, unseen by Shaka or his associates, the line suspending the Hawaiian mouse above the museum floor made contact with the recently cut side of the glass mouse hole. It began to drag against the sharp edge as Shaka pulled himself closer to his objective. 

Finally, he hung over the case containing the crown jewels of Tin-Can Island. This next part of the operation was the hardest. Peering closely, he could make out the analogue dial that measured temperature and pressure inside the case. 

Shaka took a hand drill from the equipment bag on his back. It had a very long handle to compensate for the rodent's comparatively weak strength. Fitting a specially made bit to the drill, Shaka began to make a hole in the wood. 

He was so absorbed in the job that he didn't realise that he had left the equipment bag open this time and every turn of the drill made the remaining items in his bag shift towards the opening. 

When the drill bit was almost completely buried in the wood, Shaka detached the drill and reached towards the bag. The change in weight was all it took to send something long and shiny spinning towards the floor. 

Shaka might have been slow in many ways, but his reflexes were the envy of smarter, better read rodents than him. His right foot flashed out, his long toes grasping for the lost tool, snaring it before it could give his position away. 

He looked down and saw a tiny figure, moving carefully on the marble floor. The tool started to slip. Shaka began to pant as he closed the equipment pack with his free hand. His eyes narrowed as he tried to pick out the details of the person below. 

They weren't wearing anything but the fur on their back and they walked on all fours. Not a feral mouse, Shaka was sure, especially when the figure stood on it's hind paws and put a hand to their mouth to call to someone. This was one of the museum mice checking for humans, leaving their clothes behind just in case they were seen. 

Shaka tightened his grip on the tool. Dropped from this height it might kill, let alone give him away. The tool shifted in his grip. His toes were getting tired. 

Was that mouse female? 

Shaka squinted, trying to see. His tail snaked towards the tool. If it could just take some of the weight off his toes, he thought.

The mouse turned back towards the hole she had crept from and called for something. A jacket was thrown to her along with a wolf-whistle that Shaka could barely catch at this distance. 

Shaka grinned. The mouse on the ground gave a sarcastic bow- just as the tool slipped through Shaka's toes. 

His tail took the full weight of the tool, briefly. 

Shaka turned a slow motion somersault in the harness he was wearing. As the tool slipped free he caught it in his free hand. 

The tool was an extender for the drill. He fitted it onto the drill bit that was still sticking out of the wooden case and began drilling again. In a few moments the drill bit had broken through into the case but the extender kept the hole sealed and prevented case from losing air pressure. Shaka squinted, trying to see if he had judged it right. 

Reaching behind him for another extender, Shaka kept working. It was the longest part of the job but the drill bit was finally positioned in front of the analogue dial that gave a read out of the case's air pressure. Shaka nodded and placed the drill back in the equipment bag, leaving the drill bit and the extenders in position. 

Then he drew out a large mallet. 

On the first blow the glass face of the dial cracked. On the second it broke. Finally it penetrated, pinning the red needle that pointed to the numbers to the face of the dial. Shaka's hardest job was done. Nodding to himself, the former beach-tail took a glasscutter from the bag… 

It was the work of a few moments to cut through the glass case. Finally the fun started. There were pressure pads under the crown and the jewels but Shaka had been well prepared. 

The end of a long clear tube had been attached to his belt. It was filled with golden syrup. Shaka removed the stopper and waited for the syrup to flow over the pressure pads, sticking them in place. It took a lot longer than he had thought it would. 

Shaka hooked up the precious jewels, including the crown, to a set of fishing lines that he had brought with him. To avoid getting them tangled with the line he was suspended by, none of the lines were attached to anything except the spool in his equipment pack. He would pay out the line as he was wound back, until on the roof they would be able to pull the loot in like a predatory human catching a trout. 

The last dribble of syrup ran into the case and Shaka began to make his way back towards the stain glass window. Which was when the mallet fell out of the bag. 

Shaka didn't miss it as it twirled towards the ground. The museum mouse on the ground was doing up the buttons on her jacket. She didn't see it. 

Brandon had made his way back from sabotaging a smoke detector and was watching Shaka's progress from behind a broken, barnacle-encrusted vase. He saw it. He watched as the hammer spun once and started to pick up speed. His eyes skipped ahead to the place it would land. Right on the guard's head. She was looking up from her buttons and sticking her tongue out at somebody Brandon couldn't see. 

The smart thing to do was stay under cover but Brandon was already moving forwards, his hand outstretched as if he could reach the hammer and pull it back. 

"CAT!" He screamed. 

Cat? Where had that come from? It had the desired effect, though. The guard jumped a clear inch then bolted for cover. There was an audible clang as the mallet hit the ground. 

High above, Shaka stared at Brandon in shock. Brandon blinked at him, then looked towards the mallet on the ground. The female guard had just discovered that there was no cat. She was glaring at the mallet suspiciously. Any moment now she would look up. Brandon waited nervously. Instead of looking up, the guard looked in the direction the shout had come from: at Brandon. 

Brandon gulped and looked at Shaka for guidance. The guard below him followed Brandon's gaze and…

"ROBBERY! RAISE THE ALARM!" 

Brandon clapped a hand over his eyes in exasperation and started running. 

Shaka, still hanging from his fishing line, began pulling himself along frantically. He was almost under the window when toothpick spears and arrows started sailing past him. 

Brandon ran along the display shelf he had been hiding on. He could hear guards shouting behind him. 

Shaka's problems were compounded by the fact the alarm system was switched on now. The mist from the aerosol spray can still hung in the air and through the red lens strapped across his eye he could see blood red strings of light strung across the room. The lasers were not a problem for Shaka, himself, but it meant there was no way the treasure could be pulled up to the roof without setting off the human alarm systems.

Another toothpick spear arced over his head after narrowly missing him. Not that the human alarm system was his biggest problem at the moment. 

Brandon found himself dodging behind artefacts and display cards as the guards closed in. There were three chasing him from behind and he was running out of shelf. Two more suddenly appeared in front of him and he realised that he was trapped. Cursing under his breath he ducked into the shadow of a wooden plate.

"Come on out. We see you in there."

Brandon twitched his nose. Nothing else for it. He stepped out into the light with his hands raised and his back to the edge of the plate. The guards smiled and started towards him. Which was when Brandon put his full weight against the plate and pushed with all his strength. The plate rocked ominously and the guards froze. 

"Now hold on, son. Let's just talk about this…" The oldest guard said.

The plate rocked free of it's holder and began rolling towards the three guards that had been chasing Brandon a moment earlier. 

Brandon chased after the plate, pushing it forwards so that it rolled faster and faster. There was a crash of broken pottery as the plate hit it's closest neighbour and kept going. The guards he had aimed the plate at were running for their lives now. 

Shaka pulled himself along the fishing twine desperately. He was directly under the window when he realised he could feel the line that led to the roof giving way under his weight. 

"Hey, guys! My line's breaking!" He screamed. The window was empty.

Shaka looked over to Brandon. The biker mouse had jumped on top of a vase that was rolling along on its side. As Shaka watched the vase rolled off the shelf and shattered a glass cabinet. Shaka swung from one side to another trying to see if Brandon was alive or dead. The line creaked ominously. 

Shaka looked up at his exit from the museum. Lawhiney and Pierre were looking down at him. "Guys!" Shaka called, his face filled with panic.

The line broke. 

Brandon hauled himself clear of the wreckage in time to see his friend plummet towards the floor. The next thing he knew, he was pulling a gold chain free from the wreckage and using it to climb down from the display case he had landed in.

Shaka fell, head over heels, towards the marble floor. He realised, as it rushed up to meet him, that he was going to land face first. He knew his face wasn't his best feature but he was fond of it and put his hands out to protect it.

Something like a well-aimed foot hit him in the rump and suddenly he was jerked to a halt less than an arms length away from the floor. Nervously, Shaka looked over his shoulder and saw a plunger harpoon firmly attached to his backside, just below his tail. The plunger harpoon was on the end of a very strong fishing line and at the top of it, peering over the edge of the hole they had made, was Lawhiney.  

Shake breathed a huge sigh of relief. He twisted slowly as they began pulling him up and as he did so he found himself upside down and nose to nose with an very angry female guard. He gave her a huge grin. She snarled at him. Shaka, realising another pull on line was due, grabbed her by the cheeks and gave her a big, wet kiss. 

The guard broke free, glowered at him with a towering rage and pulled a huge club free from her belt. Shaka noticed that the next pull upwards was overdue. The guard pulled back the club like a baseball player hoping for a home run. Shaka started to worry about his face again. 

The guard swung. 

Shaka felt the bat whisper through his hair as he was belatedly pulled towards the roof. Ever quick to bounce back, he blew a raspberry at the guard who made ready to jump up to him and haul him down. 

Brandon ran up behind her and knocked her down onto all fours. In one movement he jumped onto her back and leapt upwards, swinging the gold chain he had liberated from the smashed display cabinet. 

The chain caught on Shaka's front tooth and held fast despite the mouse's indistinct cries of alarm. 

Together, the whole assembly began to rise further and further away from the floor. Below, the museum mice shouted and ran around helplessly. They had already used their supply of spears and the human alarms were blaring loudly enough to deafen a mouse.

When Louis the guard arrived on the scene with his friends a moment later they were just in time to see the crown jewels of Tin-Can Island get yanked off their display stand on the end of a fishing line and disappear through the stained glass window. They were so busy staring after the jewels that they didn't notice the counter-weight come down and scatter a crowd of rodents that had been gathered below the window. 

23

Lawhiney was admiring her reflection in a large silver broach. Pierre was hurriedly piling everything he could into the Ranger plane, which was beginning to bulge at the sides. Lorrie was helping a gasping Brandon up over the edge of the glass. Shaka was standing very still his eyes full of tears. Slowly, he reached up and tested his tooth, prodding it gently with one finger. 

The tooth fell out. 

Shaka whimpered. "'e 'oof!" He said. 

Everyone ignored him. 

"'e 'oof!" Shaka wailed.

"I think that's the last of it." Pierre announced. 

"There's one more. We got this, as well." Brandon held up part of the gold chain. Together he and Lorrie piled it into the back seat of the Ranger plane. 

"Wha' a'ou' 'e 'oof?" Shaka demanded.

"Stop acting like a baby and get in the plane, Shaka." Lawhiney told him as she finished using the priceless broach to help her touch up her lipstick. 

Shaka looked at her like a struck child. Lawhiney stared back at him.

"Now. Or we'll leave you behind."

Hanging his head, Shaka did as he was told.

Lawhiney tossed the broach into Pierre's lap and climbed into the pilot's seat. They were all set to make the perfect getaway when the grill on the nearby air conditioning vent burst open and a dozen museum mice burst out. Lawhiney did a double take and started the engines with no time to waste. 

Slowly and clumsily at first the Ranger plane began hopping down the roof, away from the guards. 

"Come on, come on." Lawhiney growled at the controls as she twisted the throttle until she thought it would come off in her hand. 

"They aren't chasing us!" Pierre exclaimed in amazement.

"They aren't? But surely they must be?" Lorrie wheezed in his worried voice.

"No, they're all clustered around something they can't get out of the vent."

"Oh hell." Brandon said. "It's that air-pistol they've turned into a field gun."  

Lawhiney smiled in triumph as the plane lifted off the roof of the museum. They had just been about to run out of building when she realised they were free. Then they cleared the edge of the roof and a powerful down draft sent them diving towards the sidewalk. The air rushing past her ears seemed to wipe away all other sound. Even the wine of the Ranger plane's engine seemed to be lost. Lawhiney froze. Her hands were locked around the controls in a death grip. 

For the briefest of moments Lawhiney saw her own mortality. She saw death, her death, as the world might see it. The end of a cheep fake brought about by her own greed. 

Just as the cracks in the sidewalk slabs became visible the plane tilted back and they were flying level again: Straight through two lanes of rush hour traffic!

The fragile, tiny aircraft streaked past the windscreen of a removals truck, the driver's startled face a fleeting ghost behind the glass. The bonnet of a station wagon swept underneath the fuselage but the plane was gone before it could be smashed to pieces by the rest of the car. 

Lawhiney felt her heart miss one beat, then two. The Ranger plane was climbing again. A building reared up in front of them. Lawhiney jerked control stick round and the building was replaced by open sky. Slowly, they were climbing again. 

Assistant Tour Guide Zoë had been one of the first on the roof. Right after the Museum Security Militia and their air pistol, that is. She had just seen the tail end of an aircraft dropping out of sight as she jumped from the air vent. 

"They've crashed!" she shouted when the plane didn't reappear immediately. 

"No, there they are!" Another voice replied. 

The aeroplane moved slowly as its engine strained under its heavy load. The robbers reached the height of the museum roof, again, and the Militia struggled to aim their air pistol at the long balloon that helped keep the plane aloft. 

"Safety off!" A commanding voice boomed. "Fire at will!"

"Wait!" Zoë screamed. "That's the Ranger plane! See! It has their symbol on the side!" 

Everyone on the roof stopped and looked. 

"That may be the Ranger plane but those sure aren't the Rescue Rangers." A guard standing alongside Zoë commented. 

"That's Gadget Hackwrench!" Someone else shouted. A trail of long blonde hair, much longer than any male mouse would allow his hair to grow, was clearly visible in the pilot's position.

"No, it can't be!"

"It is! I've seen her before! That's her!" Zoë shouted, panicked at the thought that people she knew might harm her new friend. "She must be a hostage or something!"

"She's flying the plane!" Thundered the mouse who had been giving the orders. 

Pierre was perched on a gold chain. He clung to the fuselage of the Ranger plane with one hand while his other fought to clear Lawhiney's golden tresses from his face. As he brushed them away, he saw the air pistol surrounded by a crowd of blue uniformed mice. 

"Incoming!" He screamed, dropping any pretence of a French accent. 

Lawhiney gasped as she felt Pierre's hands grab her shoulders from behind. His hands were huge and strong, as she had noticed many times before, but this time it was because they were digging into her fur, hurting her. 

Lawhiney kept only one hand on the control yoke as she tried to free herself. 

Far out of earshot, Zoë pointed to the struggle. "She's fighting with them!" The young guide cheered enthusiastically. 

The guards with her watched with bated breath.

In the plane, Brandon was sitting next to Lawhiney. His heart leapt when he saw Pierre distract her. As he tried to pull the rat's hands from their pilot's shoulders, Brandon saw what the rat was so excited about. Brandon moved his hands to Lawhiney's jaw, took a firm grasp and turned her face towards the gun that was aimed at them. 

She took the hint. With only one hand on the controls she put the plane into a steep bank away from the museum. 

The plane made disagreeable mechanical sounds as it obeyed her. Lawhiney wished she knew what those noises meant but she had never been a mechanic. She hated getting her hands dirty. 

She tried an evasive manoeuvre. Instead the Ranger plane went into a tight spin towards the ground. 

With every last ounce of courage and skill she possessed, Lawhiney pulled the Ranger plane out of its second heart-stopping dive. 

For what seemed like an endless moment the Ranger plane hung on the breeze, flying towards the afternoon sun. Lawhiney only realised that her eyes had been closed when she opened them to witness one perfect, golden moment of beauty and freedom. 

Lawhiney just had time to offer a prayer of thanks to a God she didn't believe in. Then the controls went limp in her paws and the Ranger plane, as if out of deliberate malice, turned and flew straight at a brick wall.

Lawhiney heard a voice whisper: "Please?" 

It was hers. Then everything went black.


	4. Three Dreams in a Nightmare

**_Disclaimer_**

_In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone…  except a certain kind of lawyer._

**Chapter Four**

**Three Dreams and a Nightmare**

24

There was a knock at the door. 

When you're on call twenty-four hours a day you get a lot of unexpected callers. A stranger in a uniform at the door doesn't sound the alarm bells the way it does for most people. Monty opened the door. He was wearing his turtleneck sweater with the sleeves rolled up and his arms soaked in soapsuds. 

"Why, 'ello there! I don't know you, do I?" He smiled, his blue eyes completely clear of any misgiving or worry. "If it's Chip Maplewood you've come to see then I'm afraid he's away at the moment. Come on in, though. Our friends in uniform are always welcome. Which group are you with, by the way?" 

The young vole entered the Rescue Ranger's living room. She was young and her uniform, the first she had ever worn, was still new. A little way behind her a mouse the same age as Monty lingered in the doorway. 

"Um, we're with the Street Watch East Precinct, Sir." The vole told him, standing awkwardly. 

"The Sweepers, ay? You do good work from what I hear. Concentrate on honest old fashioned helping people, rather than running around after mad scientists and would-be hoodlums." 

"Thank you, yes. We do our best. I don't know about the hoodlums though. We see off the odd crook, now and then." 

"So sit down, tell us what can we do for you?" 

Reluctantly the vole sat. The mouse remained standing but placed one paw on her shoulder as if in support. "Well, sir, it's like this. There was a robbery at the City Museum of Culture and Antiquity today-"

"And you want the best detective in the city to help your investigators? I know. You aren't the first to come here looking for him but as I said, Chipper's away at the moment-" 

"No, sir." The vole cut Monty off just a shade more abruptly than was polite. "Would it be possible for you contact Mister Maplewood?"

"It might be, in an emergency, say. I, er, probably shouldn't let on, but the fact is he's on a case, see?" 

The two visitors exchanged looks. 

"Sir, the fact is, we've come to give you some bad news."

25

Half an hour later Monty, Zipper and Dale were sitting in a small room with cardboard walls. Someone had made an effort to paint the walls a cheerful colour but they had used a marker pen and it showed in the unevenness of the work. A postcard showing a beach with palm trees was hanging on one wall and there was matchbox table in the centre of the room with mouse-sized magazines but none of them felt like reading. 

The room was between the basement and the ground floor of the Cosgrove Hotel, where the Small Animals of Mercy Hospital had set up operations many busy years ago. It had been set asides by the hospital staff when they realised that the need to stop worried friends and relations from getting underfoot was more pressing than the need for storage space. Monty sat quietly in one of the uncomfortable chairs. Dale fidgeted uncontrollably. Zipper paced up and down on the ceiling, his head bowed in thought. 

Animal medicine was a mixed blessing at best. Basic medical training was something that any rodent could get by sitting in on lectures at any of the older human teaching hospitals (Provided they didn't offend the rodents who claimed the territory as home and get run off of the campus) but much of what could gained was for humans and proved dangerous when applied to other species. Doctors were not in short supply, though most tended to specialize in just one or two species that they felt confident with. Drugs and equipment, on the other hand, were almost non-existent. 

"I should have known something was up when she sent me for aspirin and I got back to find she had taken the Ranger plane up." Dale lamented. 

"It's not like Gadget to fly when she's not feeling alright. She knows better." Monty rumbled. Dale looked at Monty with a worried frown. The big mouse had been subdued since they heard the news together. Dale patted his friend on the arm.

"Hey, she's Gadget. She'll be okay."  

"Thanks for the sympathy, pally, but let's wait and hear what the Doctors have got to say."

It seemed like an eternity before the red furred packrat in the white coat came in. He opened the door quietly and closed it behind him before speaking. Monty, staring into space, did not hear the packrat enter. It was only when the Doctor spoke that the big mouse started and fixed him with a glassy stare.

"Uh, I'm looking for a Zipper, a Dale Oakmont and a Monterey Jack. Are you three…?"

"I'm Dale, he's Zipper and that's Monty." Dale was so agitated that he pointed to Monty when he said Zipper and nodded towards the ceiling when he reached Monty's name. 

The Doctor glanced in the direction Dale had gestured, but saw only an empty room. He raised an eyebrow. "I, uh, understand you weren't in the accident yourselves?" 

"What, no! Why do ask?"

"So you haven't had a head injury recently?"

Dale frowned. "No, not since Chip left to visit a friend in the countryside. Hey, why are you worried about my head?"

The Doctor cast an uneasy glance to the empty side of the room. "Oh, no reason." He said. "About Miss Hackwrench…"

"Tell us everything, Doc. Don't pull any punches." Monty spoke for the first time.

"Of course, Mr Zipper." 

"Zipper? No, I'm Monty, that's Zipper." The mouse pointed a fat finger towards the empty side of the room. 

The packrat blinked in increasing puzzlement and turned to find a housefly hanging in front of his nose. "Oh! Oh, I see. So you're Zipper." 

"Bzztzeeewezz" the fly replied, sticking out an arm.

"Pleased to meet you, I'm sure."

"Doc, I don't want to seem pushy but what have you got to tell us about Gadget?" Monty pressed.

"Well, I don't know how much you already know, but…"

"All the Street Watch could tell us was she got caught up in a robbery and crashed the Ranger plane."

"There seems to be some confusion about that. From what I've heard robbers kidnapped her and were forcing her to fly them and the loot away when a fight broke out in midair. The Ranger plane flew straight into the side of a wall about five stories above the ground."

Monty turned pale and sat down heavily. Dale gulped.

"Fortunately they weren't going that fast and Miss Hackwrench had a relatively soft landing. They found her in a trash can, lying on a pizza box." 

"Five stories. That's about fifty feet." 

"Closer to sixty, I think. She was admitted to the infirmary at the museum, the doctors there arranged for her to be transferred to us as soon as they had done the emergency work and stabilized her. She had internal bleeding, a fractured fibula, a broken tailbone about six vertebra from her- um, the base of her tail, that is." The Doctor gave a nervous chuckle. "Oh, and three broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder. But it's the head injury that's got us worried." The Doctor took on a serious tone. "We can't do a brain scan or anything fancy like humans would and our X-Ray machine is down again, but it's a definite skull fracture and concussion. There may be brain damage."

Monty choked. "No!" Slowly, the big mouse got up. "There's no helping those gangsters when I get my hands on them. They'll have more than brain damage to worry about! Just let me at them!" 

Dale's hands disappeared into the folds of Monty's stomach as the chipmunk tried to stop the mouse from leaving. "Monty! Gadget needs us here!"

"She's in good hands with the Doctor there, son. You can see he knows his stuff." The mouse kept walking and Dale's feet started to slide

"But Monty, what if she wakes up and you and Chip aren't here?" 

"She'll understand. She'll have you and Zipper!" Monty kept walking but he wasn't moving forward. Dale's feet had slipped backwards until they were jammed against the door. 

"What if she can't understand? What if she's hurt so bad she can't understand when we tell her, Monty?" Dale shouted.

"She's a bright girl, she'll know what you mean."

"What if she's as dumb as I am when she wakes up?" Dale screamed. "Brain damage can do that to a person. It doesn't matter how smart they were before." 

Monty stopped dead in his tracks. 

There was a long silence. The Doctor wanted to leave, but the two rodents were blocking the doorway. The fly hovered, wanting to lend help or comfort but unable to risk getting between two titans who could crush him without really wanting to. 

"Uh, well, anyway." The Doctor said. "She's got a good constitution. She could make a full recovery, given time. As for the head injury, we won't really know one way or the other until she wakes up." The Doctor found himself face to face with Monty. "I appreciate what you said about her being in good hands, sir. I assure you we'll do our best. In the meantime, you may like to know that the robbers you mentioned probably have bigger problems of their own to worry about.

"You see, the museum mice say that they couldn't find any trace of the robbers but there was only one trashcan to provide a soft landing and all their loot was lying scattered until the human guards found it. The whole district has a cat problem, apparently, so there's no way to tell whether they somehow survived the fall and crawled away without their loot, or if someone else just ate the bodies. Personally, without medical treatment, I don't see how they could be alive even if they did survive the fall."

26

Gadget Hackwrench was having a wonderful dream. She wasn't quite sure what it was about but it had definitely started with her waking in her own bed at Rescue Ranger HQ to find the sun streaming in through the window and had featured a human size chocolate chip muffin, which she had offered to share with everybody but only Chip was hungry. 

"Oh Chip." She smiled turning over. She tried to wrap the blankets tighter around her, but couldn't find any. 

"Yeah, girl. That's what I said when I found myself here, too." 

Gadget's eyes opened. She was looking at a very old shrew wearing clothes so old that Gadget couldn't tell where the repairs ended and the shoddy dressmaking started. There were bars and lots of grey everywhere else. 

The Rescue Ranger tried to stand up but found she wanted to throw up instead. Her stomach was complaining of being empty, though, and she remembered Jen's rejected offer of lunch with a pang of regret. 

A cell. She was in a cell. Obviously she had been kidnapped for use of some villain's evil scheme. He would probably be showing up the moment he realised she was awake, making boasts and idle threats. She hoped he wasn't one of the ones with a really loud laugh. Her head hurt for some reason. Golly, did it ever hurt. She felt like Monty after a night on the town. 

That did it. The memory flooded back to her. She could remember leaving Jen's, the missing Ranger Skate, the trip to the bar… What had been that rat's name? He was well spoken but he had put something in her drink. There was no way one sip of Brandy Coffee should have had her dancing on tables. (Or had she finished the cup? She couldn't remember.) 

Gadget felt herself shudder. One hand went to fastener on her overalls but it wasn't there. Dear God, she knew there was a reason she avoided dressing this way. Forcing herself out of bed she scurried into the corner of the cell and, as discretely as possible, checked herself all over to see if she had been molested.

She was still checking when a voice said behind her:  "And you looked so innocent while you were asleep." 

Spinning, Gadget saw a guard standing outside the cell. The guard was a female chipmunk, wearing a Street Patrol West Precinct uniform that Gadget recognized immediately. 

"Oh thank God- I'm in jail!" she squeaked. "I thought I'd been kidnapped!"

"Oh, really? Well, you haven't. You're in jail until your arraignment. These are the overnight cells. The judge will see you first thing in the morning and he'll want to know what to call you, so introduce yourself."

"Now don't say anything hasty, girl." The other inmate warned her. 

"You keep out of this, Sheila." 

"Uh, my name's Gadget." Gadget said. 

"Gadget what?" 

Gadget blinked. It had been a while since anyone had asked her that. Of course, it was for official purposes, so she understood. "Hackwrench." And she spelt it just to be sure there was no mistake. 

"Ah." The warder smiled. "We were hoping you would say that. Tell me, what other names do you go by?"

"Uh, sometimes I'm called Gadgetluv, or Gadg'." 

"Hmmm. Is that so? Any relation?" 

"Relation to who?" Gadget blinked in genuine puzzlement. 

"Gadget Hackwrench the Rescue Ranger."

"Uh, this is a little embarrassing. You see, I am, Gadget Hackwrench the Rescue Ranger." 

"That is embarrassing." 

"Being in jail would be embarrassing for anyone, I should think, but having a good reputation does make it more awkward." 

"You think a good reputation is important, then?" 

"It certainly isn't the most important thing, but my father always said that your reputation is how people get to know you before they get to know you." Gadget smiled, tidying her hair and clothes. Her hair, in particular, seemed to be a mess. 

"You certainly wouldn't like the girl they brought three hours ago. She's been running around all over the state using someone else's reputation to get herself anything she wants and them into trouble." 

"Well, I'd certainly like to have a strong word with her!"

"Go ahead." The lady guard said coldly. "The real Gadget Hackwrench has been in hospital since six o'clock. She tried to stop a robbery and they hurt her so bad she may die."

Gadget's eyes grew as round as pennies and her mouth opened so wide that Zipper could have sat inside with his head bowed. She still wasn't feeling clear headed, so perhaps it was understandable that it took her three seconds to take in the news. For one, brief, heart-stopping moment she wondered if she was an impostor. Then the memories of her childhood, her father, her grief, her joy, her inventions and her time with the Rangers brought her back to reality. 

"If you still want to have that word with her there's a mirror over the wash basin." 

"What? No. That's impossible. That's a mistake. I'm Gadget Hackwrench. Ask the Rangers they'll tell you!"

"Well, if that's the way you want to play it, go ahead. But I'm not putting Gadget Hackwrench on the charge sheet. I've too much respect for the original. You were booked as Jane Doe when you came in and that's how you can say." With that, the lady guard left.

"Silly slip of girl." Gadget's cellmate said. "I told you not to answer too fast. If you had made something up you might have got away with a night in the cells for being drunk." 

Gadget opened her mouth to say something about forensic evidence but closed it again with out speaking. Chip was always complaining about how hard it was to keep track of known criminals. There were a huge number of rodents to consider and the population in any given area always had a rapid turn over, partly due to normal migrations and partly because of the danger of predators. The fact that human transport provided a free, unchecked means of travelling long distances made it easy to lose track of people and even if you did come across the same crook twice, proving he or she was the same person you convicted last time was difficult if they claimed to be someone else. Fingerprints were unique to primates and a winter coat of fur could make mug shots worthless. 

The biggest problem was the fact that communication between different law enforcement agencies was so shaky. The same place could be policed by up to five different law enforcement groups, mostly volunteer forces, without any one of them being aware of the others. In some cases, one group of crook chasers would go after another without realising, which had even lead to turf wars between opposing groups of "good guys". It would have been entirely possible for Gadget to say her name was something like "Haley Brightooth" and walk out a free mouse after grovelling to a judge, even if someone called "Haley Brightooth" had committed armed robbery and left a signed confession at the scene two blocks away from the court, provided that the group investigating the robbery wasn't the one that had dragged her into court for being drunk and disorderly. 

"Well?" Her cellmate demanded. "Are you just going to stare at me?"

Gadget blinked. "Do you normally help total strangers who might be criminals avoid the consequences of their actions?" 

"Hey, I was just trying to be sociable. Seeing as you're my cellmate and all. Give you the benefit of my years of experience."

Gadget looked at the shrew. "I'm not going to be here long enough to need your advice. This is a mistake."

"That's what I said. Twenty years ago."

"You've been here twenty years?!" 

"No, just since five o'clock. Twenty years ago I had a good reputation and a nice figure. One day I walked out of a hat shop while I was thinking about my boyfriend. Next thing I know, my parents say I'm embarrassment, my boyfriend won't see me, my friends are strangers and I'm serving a three year jail sentence."

"Over a hat you forgot to pay for?"

"No, over the rich lady's purse I picked up while I was browsing. I told everyone that I just forgot that I hadn't brought mine with me, but the truth was I thought another customer had forgotten it and it was just a nicer handbag than the one I had at home." 

"You were stealing then."

"Yeah, but… sometimes I think that if I'd admitted that they would have just let me off with a warning, you know?" 

"Just because you don't know who you were robbing or why you have the chance to that doesn't mean you deserve to get away with it." 

"I didn't say it did. I just didn't deserve what happened, that's all."

"Was it your first offence?"

"Yes, but it wasn't the first bag snatch there and the rich lady kept a necklace in the bag. I didn't know that, I was just after the bag."

"Three years for a bag is a little harsh." 

"It's not the three years, it's the seventeen since then. When you've done something wrong and you haven't put it right, it's like you're still doing wrong. It keeps coming up again and again. It's part of who you are. If it's not dealt with fairly, then that makes it worse. Even if it's dealt with too harshly instead of too lightly." The old shrew looked at Gadget carefully. "I don't know what you've done, kiddo, but the only way you'll have a shot at any kind of life after tonight is to face up to it and stare it down. Tell them the truth, help them to just be fair with you." 

Gadget looked at the shrew a long time. The shrew looked back. Eventually she said: "Thank you for trying to help me. My name is Gadget Hackwrench." 

27

Dale found himself in a cage. He was covered with straw but, apart from that, he was wearing only his own fur. His mouth had a funny taste in it and his first instinct was to go to the water bottle hanging on the side of the cage. When he stood up he was unsteady, so he put out a hand to steady himself. What he touched moved under his weight and he dropped onto all fours. He glanced at it in surprise. 

It was an exercise wheel. 

He was in a pet cage. 

Dale shivered. This could be bad. Depending on the circumstances he could just walk out and go home or he would be here for the rest of his life. He looked around. It was a space about the size of the living room back at Rescue Ranger Headquarters. 

Outside the cage was a small room crowded with silent animals, also in cages, and a counter with a bell on it. Behind the counter Dale could just make out the back of a human who was bending down to do something out of sight. 

The pet shop door opened to the sound of a bell. 

Dale was surprised and pleased to see that it was Chip. Admittedly a human sized version of Chip but this didn't seem odd for some reason. He must be undercover, Dale rationalized. Of course he would have to blend in with the people who ran the pet store. 

"Excuse me, Miss?" Chip directed to the figure behind the counter. 

The "human" shopkeeper stood up to reveal the face of Monterey Jack. There was a Dale-sized mousetrap caught in his moustache. He faced Chip with a frown. "Miss?" He rumbled.

"Oh, I'm sorry; I have a cold." Chip blinked and stared at the mousetrap. 

There was a slight pause as Monty considered this with a puzzled frown. Abandoning the mystifying apology, he warned: "We're closing for lunch." 

"But I wish to make a complaint!" Chip objected. 

Monty shook his head, causing the mousetrap to swing wildly. "This isn't the complaint department." 

"Never mind that." Chip brushed aside the objection and placed a cage that Dale hadn't noticed him carrying before onto the counter. "I want to complain about this 'ere love interest I purchased from this very boutique not half an hour ago."

"Oh yes, the Hackwrench Blonde. What's, um, what's wrong with 'er?" Monty enquired nervously. 

Chip quivered. "I'll tell you what's wrong with her! She's dead, that's what's wrong with her." 

Monty peered into the cage. "Uh, no. No. She's just resting, that's all."

"Look, pal, I know a live love interest from a dead love interest and I'm looking at a dead love interest right now." 

"No, no." Monty insisted. "She's resting. Remarkable creature, the Hackwrench Blonde, isn't she? Beautiful figure!"

"The figure don't enter into it! She's stone dead!"

"No. No, no, no, no, no, no. She's resting."

"Alright then!" Chip shouted. "If she's resting I'll wake her up." Chip put his mouth right up against the cage. "Hello, Miss Hackwrench? Who's a pretty girl then?" He shouted. "Wakey, wakey. I've got a lovely new sprocket set for you if you wake up and show us your-"

Chip broke off abruptly as Monty brought his fist down on the far end of the counter, causing everything on it to jump, including the cage. 

"There you are! She moved." Monty said.

"She never! That was you hitting the counter!"

"I never did anything to make her move!"

"You did!"

"I didn't!"

Chip put his head back down to cage level and started shouting. "Hello Gadget! This is your nine o'clock alarm call! Time to rise and shine!" 

Gadget gave no sign of life. Chip opened the cage and took her out, holding her by her tail. Realising that her entire body, including her tail, was absolutely stiff, Chip turned her upside down so that her entire body was held above his hand by her rigid tail. Chip and Monty stared at each other for a moment. Then Chip changed his grip so he could use Gadget as a hammer and he began to bang the counter bell with her head. 

"Now that's what I call a dead love interest." Chip said after a minute of this treatment. 

"No, she's just stunned."

"STUNNED?"

"You stunned her just as she was waking up! They stun easily, the Hackwrench Blondes."

Chip staggered with disbelief. "Um...now look...now look, buddy, I've definitely 'ad enough of this. That love interest is definitely deceased, and when I purchased her not 'alf an hour ago, you assured me that her total lack of movement was due to bein' tired and shagged out following a prolonged bout of inventing things that don't work!" 

"She's probably just pining for Gewgaw!"

"Pining for Gewgaw? What kind of an excuse is that? Why did she fall flat on her back the moment I got her home, then?"

"The Hackwrench Blonde prefers kipping on her back. Remarkable creature, remarkable. Lovely figure."

"I took the liberty of examining that love interest when I got it home and I discovered that the only reason that it had been standing up in the first place was that someone had nailed her to the floor of the cage in an upright position!"

"Well of course she was nailed to the floor of the cage!" Monty huffed. "If I hadn't done that, it would have been lift latch to open cage and the next thing you know she would have been out the window in a bleach bottle aeroplane, voom!"

"Voom? This love interest wouldn't voom if you stuck a million volts through her! She's dang-well deceased." 

"No, she's pining."

"She's not pining, she's passed on! This love interest is no more. She is extinct! Departed! She has ceased to be! She has gone to meet her maker! She's a stiff! Bereft of life, she rests in peace! If you hadn't nailed her to the floor she'd be pushing up the daisies! She's history! She's dropped off her perch! She's kicked the bucket, shuffled off this mortal coil, left this veil of tears and entered the great beyond! She has joined the choir invisible! This is an ex-mouse!"

There was a pause as Chip got his breath back after all the shouting. Monty looked ashamed. Dale brushed away a tear for Gadget. 

"Righty-ho, then! I suppose if it's like that, I'd better find you a replacement." Monty said sullenly. 

"Finally!"

"Only the thing is we're right out of brilliant girl inventors. I've got a goofy comic relief type, though."

"Does she have a good figure?" Chip asked. 

Monty hesitated. There was no denying that his eyes travelled, momentarily, in Dale's direction.

"He's alright, I suppose."

"He?"

"Pardon?"

"You said he?"

"Did I? I meant she. She's alright, I suppose." 

Chip looked suspicious and resentful. "Look. I'll ask you just once and, if I have to come back here again, there's going to be trouble. This goofy comic relief love interest: Is it Dale?"

Monty looked embarrassed. "Sort of, yes."

"Then that's hardly finding me a replacement love interest, is it?!" Chip shouted.

"He looks quite good in a dress." Monty put in, nodding in Dale's direction. "You can take him with you right now, if you like."

Chip turned and looked straight at Dale for a moment. Then he said: "Yeah, alright then. You've talked me into it." 

Dale squeaked with alarm.

28

Dale woke with a start. He looked around rapidly. He was sitting in a private hospital room next to Monty. In front of him was the bed where Gadget Hackwrench was fighting her personal battle with mortality. The sounds of hospital life were quite audible from the corridor outside and reminded Dale of the human hospital dramas he had seen but the private room seemed desperately short of equipment. 

Dale had no idea what all the beeping grey boxes with flashing lights were that surrounded human patients, but he would have been awfully reassured if Gadget had been attached to some now. He looked across at Monty, who was reassuringly mouse-sized. 

Monty looked back at him with a raised eyebrow. After a heartbeat or two, he looked down to his lap. Dale followed the glance and realised that he was gripping Monty's leg, tightly. With a gulp, Dale withdrew the stray paw and hoped Monty hadn't taken it the wrong way. 

"Where's Chip?" Dale asked. 

"He's out of town, investigating. Remember, lad?"

"I thought he was back."

"You've only been asleep twenty minutes." Monty told him.

"It seemed longer."

"Aye, lad." Monty looked back at the still figure in the bed. "That it did." 

"Are you okay, Monty?" Dale asked. He hadn't often seen the big mouse like this. And when he had, it was always because something had happened that would make Dale want to cry.

"It's Gadget you should worry about."

"I know she's not alright. Are you?"

"I was just thinking about milestones. How many we have to pass before we can rest." Monty seemed lost in his memories. "There's the first time you fall in love. The first time you break a bone. The first time you stay away from the home you were raised in for so long that it doesn't feel like home when you come back. The first time someone you know dies. The first time a friend dies." The weather beaten adventurer bowed his head and shoulders. "I don't want to live to see Gadget die. It's not a milestone I want to pass." 

Dale hadn't been so still since Fat Cat had put him on a clay pigeon and told him it was a pressure sensitive landmine. He had always assumed that whereas Chip was the smarter, more knowledgeable chipmunk, he, Dale, was better at dealing with emotions. Faced with the crisis in the bed and the crisis sitting next to him, Dale found that cherished illusion evaporating like dew under the summer sun. In the silence, Dale wracked his brains for something that might help. All that came back to him was the dream from his brief nap. 

He had dreamed the dead parrot sketch from Monty Python, with Gadget instead of the parrot. 

Suddenly Dale hated himself and wanted to tell Monty so that Monty would be angry and hit him. 

Two things stopped him. First, fact that Monty was a lot bigger than Chip and might actually put him in a coma as well, and second, the fact that if they were caught fighting in a hospital neither of them would be allowed to stay with Gadget. 

Slowly he leaned in close to Monty. "Would it make you feel better if you could hit somebody?" he asked.

"What?" Monty glared at him with a puzzled frown.

"We could go outside and I could tell you something that would make you angry." 

"Dale?" Monty shook his head. "Why should we do a thing like that?" 

"So that you would be angry instead of… I don't know. Whatever they call it when people feel the way you are now." 

"You'd rather I was angry with you?"  

Dale was quiet for a moment. "I guess I'm more used to dealing with that."

Monty looked at the Chipmunk blankly. Then he seemed to come back from whatever dark place his heart had gone to. 

"Dale, mate, I can't imagine a worse feeling than the one I've got right now but I know if Gadget dies I'll find one. I'd rather feel anything instead of what I'm feeling right now, but getting angry with you isn't going to make things better." The Australian put a big paw on the Chipmunk's shoulder. "Dale, lad; don't ever make me an offer like that again. You've got a big heart and you deserve better than to be the fall guy every time things go wrong." 

29

"So, Mister Investigator, who are you investigating for?" The Mayor asked.

"Myself, at the moment." 

"Just getting everyone's hurt feelings stirred up for your own personal curiosity, huh?"

"Well, Mister Mayor, that depends on what I find. If it's useful, it could bring the person who did this to justice. Then I'd be investigating for everyone who had been a victim."

The Mayor thought about it for a moment. "It hasn't been easy, you know. I wasn't mayor when this happened. I came here from Redreach, the town they stopped at before this one. My predecessor lost everything because he jumped the wrong way, if you know what I mean." 

"He got eaten?"

"No, I don't mean literally. He heard my warning and HER reply and he backed the wrong person. When people realised they've been made fools of, the first thing they want is someone to blame besides themselves." The Mayor looked the chipmunk in the eye. "I don't want the same thing to happen to me. But if I'd been in his shoes - well, it could just as easily have been me running for cover as people pelted me with leftover food."

"You're worried that you might find yourself in the same situation that your predecessor did." the chipmunk nodded understandingly. 

"Are you going to present me with that situation?"

"No. I haven't claimed to be Chip Maplewood and I don't plan on doing so while I'm in your town." 

"So; you're just an ordinary chipmunk who's investigating the fraud on his own initiative? And that's what you want everyone to be told?" 

"Something like that." 

"Why should people co-operate with an ordinary chipmunk who's just sticking his nose into something that embarrasses them?"

"For one thing, for the sake of Gadget Hackwrench's reputation."

"That won't get you very far. Gadget and Hackwrench happen to be a couple of dirty words around here."

"That's precisely why you should help me! I know you don't have another name for the person who cheated you but there is a real Gadget Hackwrench and she's a good person! If you don't help stop this, then one day she'll wake up and no one will let her help them and she wants to help people, Mister Mayor! She lives to help people and people live because she's helped them! But if this goes on she may not even be able to show her face anymore!" 

"It certainly would help if we had another name for HER." The mayor mused. 

"I might be able to give you one." 

"If you already know who did this, then why do you need our help?"

"I suspect. I can't prove. And I need to find her."

"I felt that way, not so long ago." The Mayor sighed.

The chipmunk looked puzzled. "About who?"

"About the one who called herself Gadget. I had a good job in Redreach. I was in charge of the town's winter food store. She said there had been a series of raids on grain silos and that she wanted to add some traps to ours in case it was the next target. Afterwards she convinced me to show her everything about the storage facility. Locks, doors, guards, alarms. Then she said that the other rangers had tricked raiders into robbing an empty building on the far side of town. We staked the place out all night and in the morning the grain from the real silo was gone. The traps she had put in place had all been bypassed by someone who knew exactly how they worked and she was gone." The mayor bowed his head for a moment. "I was disgraced. I suspected she had betrayed us, but I had to know for sure." 

"You thought there might be another explanation?"

"No. I just couldn't believe it because I really thought-" The Mayor broke off suddenly and glanced at the chipmunk to check his expression. "It doesn't matter what I thought. I just had to warn our neighbours." 

"What were you going to say?" The chipmunk probed.

"I said it doesn't matter!" The Mayor snapped.

The chipmunk looked at him steadily. "She broke your heart, didn't she?"

The Mayor looked away. 

"Yes." He whispered. "She told me that she loved me and I believed her. I thought that was true, even if she had lied about everything else. But when I saw her here and she saw me-" the Mayor sighed deeply "-there wasn't a shred of love in her eyes, she looked at me like she didn't even remember me and I don't think it was all acting. I think it really did take her a second to figure out who I was." 

"I'm very sorry." The chipmunk said mostly to fill up the gap in the conversation. 

"Very sorry I let a cheap fraud take me for everything I had, including my dignity and my self respect, or very sorry that you feel awkward hearing about it?"

"Both, actually. Though you seem to have done well for yourself, considering." The chipmunk gestured to the small, but grandly furnished office. 

"Isn't life absurd? Just when you know you've lost everything, including your self-respect and the will to live, it hands you a whole town just like that." The Mayor held out an upturned hand. 

"I appreciate the irony, but you have to admit – you can wallow in self-pity amongst lovely surroundings." The chipmunk said.

The Mayor glared at him. "Do you have any idea what it is to love someone? To love someone so much that you would walk away from everything and everyone you've ever known, probably forever, just on the off-chance that you might get to be with them? And yet when you look into their eyes you know that they haven't the faintest idea of what it feels like to have an emotion like that?"

The chipmunk looked back at the mayor for a long time. Then he said: "Yes." 

30

It had been past ten when Gadget Hackwrench called for the guard and asked for her one phone call. Her cellmate had told her to call a lawyer, or family. She had neither. Instead she chose to call the Ranger HQ, positive that someone would be there. 

The phone lines the mice used were spliced into the human network using a careful lash up of technology that meant that the phone company would dismiss all rodent calls as random noise on the line. Because rodents had such acute hearing, the phone Gadget was allowed to use was in a box room so that the call could be private. The phone itself consisted of the earpiece from a human hearing aid and a microphone that had originally been intended to clip on to a human tie. 

The lady chipmunk who guarded the overnight cells had handed her over to a much larger squirrel, who glared at Gadget and caressed a nail that had been padded in band-aids to act as a nightstick. The squirrel guard watched Gadget's every move. 

"They aren't answering." Gadget said, nervously. 

"It's half past ten." The squirrel replied. "I'm due to go off shift about now."

"You could just leave me here until they pick up. I promise to go back to my cell when I finish my call." 

"What do I look like? Stupid?" Yelled the guard. "Hang up that phone and come on!" 

"Please, just a few more rings. I know there's an answer phone." Gadget face was growing more worried by the second. If what the chipmunk had told her were true, then her friends would be beside themselves. She began to twist the makeshift phone cord around her fingers with anxiety. 

What if they were out looking for her? Or trying to find out who the person in hospital really was? 

It didn't occur to Gadget that a fraud could remain undetected in a hospital, where Doctors would check her medical records and find the patient didn't match them. 

After a dozen rings to weed out casual callers and telesales people, the answer phone she had built picked up. Chip's polite voice spoke slowly (for a chipmunk). "Thank you for calling the Rescue Rangers to deal with your crisis. Unfortunately we're busy dealing with another case right now, or we're taking a well-earned break. I would point out that our headquarters is equipped with the best in security alarms and booby traps, so if you're a burglar checking to see if we're at home, forget it. We want to help as many people as possible, so if you can afford to wait a while, leave your name and a way to contact you after the beep. If your problem requires immediate attention I suggest you contact one of the other volunteer crisis groups that operate in the city." There was a sharp beep. 

"Hello, Chip, this is-" Gadget began. There was a sharp squeal on the other end of the line. "Hello, anyone?" Gadget winced as the message began playing backwards at a much higher speed. "I'm in jail! It's Gadget! Chip, if you get this I think I forgot to set a switch to cut out the pick-up message when the caller stays on the line to leave a message. If you get any of this I'm at-"

There was a very loud squawk from the phone that made Gadget and her guard flinch. Suddenly the line went dead. "Hello?" Gadget inquired, forlornly. The only sound was the guard tapping her foot behind her. Gadget looked over her shoulder and was skewered by a particularly nasty look from the guard. Gadget's eyes went to the phone cord that she had been twisting around her fingers. It was hanging loose. 

"I must have pulled it free when it made that loud noise. I guess the answer phone I built needs some work, huh? Say, I can fix this with a little screwdriver or some solder and a soldering iron. You would like it fixed, wouldn't you? I mean it would be an awful nuisance to call a repair mouse in just for a loose wire, wouldn't it?"

"That's enough." The guard said, coldly taking a handful of Gadget's hair. "On your feet. You're going back to the cells and I'm adding wilful damaging of public property to the charges, even if you are going away for so long it doesn't make any difference." 

"Hey, you don't have to-" But the guard was twisting Gadget's arm into a wrestling hold and she realised fighting back would make things even worse. Bad enough that she was going to have to spend a night in cells and explain herself to a judge in the morning, without having to plead guilty to assaulting a guard!

31

Lawhiney was sleeping. From a long way off, voices came to waken her. 

"Law? Law, where are you?" 

Lawhiney was touched by the genuine concern in the voice's tone.

"She's dead. Let's get out of here." 

Who was dead? I have to find out before all the good stuff is claimed by the relatives, Lawhiney thought and stirred in her sleep. She found herself looking down from a great height at a crumpled form on a pile of trash. The body was familiar, somehow, and Lawhiney tried to force her memory to identify it. She really hadn't woken up yet. She ought to have some coffee before deciding what to do next. She was just about to wonder away to get a cup when she realised that the body below her looked just like Gadget Hackwrench. 

Lawhiney smiled gleefully. Oh, good. Little Miss Goody-Two-Shoes had finally got what was coming to her. 

With that thought, Lawhiney drifted away to find her friends. It was hard to see them, or anything once she had gone a little distance. The near sleepwalker hadn't realised as she left the scene of the accident behind her but it was a very foggy day. Looking down, the blonde mouse girl found she couldn't even see her own feet. She sighed. She hated days like this. It meant she couldn't use her looks to make a good first impression. She had never known a misty day as bright as this one though. The sun was a searing silver light shining down at her with an intensity that should have evaporated the mist in just minutes. In spite of that, the further she went the heavier the mist seemed to become. 

From somewhere very far behind her, she caught a snippet of conversation. Just a single phrase carried on the breeze: "Very low blood pressure. I think there's internal bleeding."   

Lawhiney almost looked back to see where the voice had come from but the mist parted in front of her revealing the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. It was like looking at a stained-glass window, but not one made of the dark blues and reds that most church windows used. There was sunshine gold at the top of the pointed archway and rose pink at the wide base with every colour of the rainbow in between. 

"Ohhh." Lawhiney breathed the single syllable in awe. She stayed absolutely still, as though hypnotised by the vision of beauty. 

What she had first taken to be a single window was actually a pair of gates, she realised, and the colours were not silver light being filtered through glass. They were more like the colours of a rainbow, only they were moving. Lawhiney didn't know how long she had been staring at the gate when her eyes were drawn to the pearl. It was set at the very base of the pillar that supported the left hand gate and it was the same pearl she had stolen from the museum just- had it been moments ago, or the previous day? Since she had just woken up, Lawhiney decided it must have been the previous day. 

How had it gotten here? Lawhiney was vibrating with anger and greed. It wasn't fair. Someone had stolen it back from her while she was asleep. She set her jaw. Well, she would just see about that. Admittedly, it looked as if it belonged right where it was, but that wasn't her problem. 

Lawhiney ran up to the pearl, which was the size of her head and even more beautiful than it had looked in the museum, rolled up her sleeves and began pull with all her strength. It seemed impossible that she could move the pearl at first. It was set directly into the marble of the gatepost so solidly it was as if it had been there for all eternity. 

"I'm going to need a crowbar." Lawhiney snarled through clenched teeth. 

"What's this?" A gentle voice boomed from high above the would-be pearl thief.

Lawhiney gave one last, big heave. The pearl came free, at last, and sent her head over heals backwards. She ended up sitting down with the pearl in her lap and her hair all mussed. She blinked, looked at the pearl and grinned wickedly. 

"Here, now! That's not yours!" The voice rolled over her again. 

Lawhiney picked up the pearl and started to run as fast as she could. She knew that she had been spotted but not who by. She couldn't see her feet past the pearl but the mist meant she couldn't see more than an arms length in any direction anyway. 

The voice had sounded like it was coming from the sky. How tall was the person who had spoken to her? Had it been another mouse? A cat? 

Lawhiney ran faster but suddenly there was a great weight pressing gently but firmly down on her tail. Her feet moved faster but she wasn't going anywhere. It was like running on an exercise wheel. 

"Come here, little thief." The voice said again.

Terrified, Lawhiney looked behind her. Just in time to see a human hand reach down to pluck her up by the scruff of her neck!

Whimpering softly, she hung in front of a huge tanned face with deep wrinkles and a grey beard. The pearl was still clutched between her paws. Shaking she forced a big smile, like she meant it, and held the pearl out in front of her. Though it was ridiculous, she could have sworn the human was waiting for an answer. 

The human raised a huge, furry eyebrow and took the pearl from her. "Well? I'm waiting for an answer, Laurel." 

Lawhiney gasped. She was so shocked that her mouth opened and closed several times as incoherent sounds came out. 

"Are you going to be sensible and give me an answer, or not? And yes, I know you can talk and I can hear you perfectly, before you ask." 

"Who are you?" Lawhiney trembled.

"Why, my name is Peter. You really weren't expecting to see me, were you, Laurel?"

"My name isn't "Laurel"." Lawhiney squeaked again.

"Isn't it?" Peter seemed puzzled. Still holding Lawhiney by the scruff of her neck, he carried her over to a great big book that lay open on a lectern, where he set her down. 

Lawhiney was so shaken by being caught that her legs buckled under her. She sat with her tail wrapped around her, clutching the part that was still numb from the weight of Peter's sandal. She almost ran when Peter's huge finger thumped the page beside her, but it was a shear drop to the ground. 

"Ah, here we are. Laurel calls herself Lawhiney, which is the name given to her by the Hawaiian tribe she joined after saving a child from drowning." 

"Who are you? How come you know all about me?"

"Don't you know where you are, Lawhiney?" Peter's face looked at her sadly. "This is the gateway to heaven. Well, not the only gateway. This is just the one that humans use. There's another one for your people. In fact, there are as many ways to get into Heaven as there are to get into the other place." 

Lawhiney stared at him in shock. Her mind went back to the museum, to the robbery, to the getaway. She remembered having trouble with the controls, the golden sunshine that was so different from the silver light around her now, the wall of the museum looking amazingly huge, solid and hard as it came closer and closer. 

Suddenly Lawhiney knew this was for real. 

She was dead. 

She was a dead thief, who had just tried to steal part of the Pearly Gates. There was only one thing to do. She burst into tears. Loud tears; not the pretty, subtle kind that she used to get her own way on occasion but the uncontrolled bawls of a hurt child. 

Peter, Saint Peter, buried a hand in one of his robe's copious sleeves and pulled out a handkerchief. "There, there. Tears help you feel better but they don't solve the problem." 

The handkerchief collapsed over Lawhiney like a tent. She felt like staying there forever but her nose was running and she couldn't hide under a snotty handkerchief. Tearfully she pulled herself out. 

"What's going to happen to me?" Lawhiney asked.

Saint Peter retrieved his handkerchief and picked Lawhiney up gently. He placed her on his shoulder. "Why don't we have a look?" He said kindly. "This is your entry in the great book. Everyone in creation has a place in this book."

Lawhiney looked and saw, to her amazement, that there was a picture of her face at the top of the left hand page. Under it was her real name, written in flowing handwriting, followed by the sentence he had already read to her. Below that, written in the same handwriting, which looked unnervingly like her own, were the words: She was born…


	5. The Trial of Gadget Hackwrench

**_Disclaimer_**

_In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone…  except a certain kind of lawyer._

**Chapter Five**

**The Trial of Gadget Hackwrench**

32

The dawn had brought with it the promise of a new day. Gadget Hackwrench was confident that for her, that promise was one of freedom, if at the price of some considerable embarrassment. She was to be tried in a small animal courthouse located in the attic of a cigar shop half a block from the Street Watch precinct where she was being held. As a Rescue Ranger and an engineer she had the skills an experience to break out of the overnight cells where she was being held before they came to get her but chose not to because she believed freedom was certain. 

At 6 am the morning shift guard woke the prisoners. It had been a difficult night for Miss Hackwrench. She was unaccustomed to sleeping in the same room as someone else, especially someone who smelt and snored. Her own mattress was lumpy, damp in places and infested with parasites. 

Gadget welcomed the chance to shower, even under the watchful eye of the female guards in the limited privacy of one of three shower stalls the precinct had available for prisoners. She took the opportunity to wash the dye out of her hair, in the vain hope that everyone would say "Oh my! How can we have been so foolish?" and let her go at once. Without the necessary hair treatments she was only partially successful and she was left as a normal red head. Though she did not notice it at the time, the rest of her fur was darkened several shades to a mild tan colour in the process. 

Gadget was scratching against the advice of her cellmate at 8 am when the guard, accompanied by two court officers, fetched her out of the cell and put shackles on her arms and legs. The shackles permitted her to run on two legs in the event of predator attack but kept her hands helpless. 

In fact it was not the first time Gadget had been held prisoner or been shackled. It was the first time the people holding her had been on the side of law and order. 

At 9 am they arrived at the courthouse. It had taken most of an hour to process the paper work for Gadget and the other prisoners who were going to be tried that morning. Gadget was processed under the alias of Jane Doe, as she insisted that her real name was Gadget Hackwrench and the morning newspaper reported that that individual was close to death, having been given only a 1 in 5 chance of survival by a "hospital source".

She was introduced to her court appointed lawyer for the first time a few minutes later, in a room made from a converted shoebox.

33

"Oh, Thank Heaven. I never thought I'd speak to a sane person again." Gadget smiled as a dormouse with unkempt fur entered the room, trailing papers from the folder under his arm. 

"Huh?" The dormouse yawned. "Why, is this a competency hearing?" 

These are not the first words you want to hear from the lawyer who is going to be defending you. 

"Um. No." Gadget tried to keep the worry off her face. "This is a trial for fraud and deception, as I understand it, and damaging public property. Unless they've changed the charges against me, or dropped them completely which wouldn't surprise me at all under the circumstances, given the fact that this is a case of mistaken identity and I'm completely innocent."

"Ah, right. Good. Got you. I thought I had the wrong file for a moment. So, you're innocent. You've never once called yourself Gadget Hackwrench." The dormouse blinked happily. He didn't seem to be properly awake.

"No! I call myself Gadget Hackwrench all the time!" 

"What?" The dormouse sat back in surprise. "Um. That could be a problem for our case… You see you really shouldn't do that, you know. Call yourself by another's name, I mean." 

"No, you don't understand. I am Gadget Hackwrench!" 

"No, you don't understand. Even if you could say that and the Rescue Rangers weren't available to say otherwise, the whole city knows that Gadget Hackwrench is on her deathbed."

"Deathbed? No! I have to speak to my friends! They don't know they're dealing with an impostor!"

The lawyer yawned. "Pardon me, I tend to get a little sleepy every so often. Miss, is it your contention that you are the real Gadget Hackwrench and that the mouse who so bravely prevented the biggest jewel robbery in the history of animal crime, perhaps at the cost of her own life, is an phoney? Because if it is, I have to tell you that I don't think the jury are going to buy that." 

Gadget stared at him agog. "It isn't going to be up to any jury! As soon as one of my friends gets on to the stand the case is going to be thrown out of court!" 

The dormouse looked at her sceptically. "Have you got any family I could contact for you?" 

"No. My parents travelled a lot and now they're both dead."

"What about someone who's known you a long time?" Enquired the dormouse, taking a bottle of pills from his jacket. "A doctor perhaps?" he suggested, inspired by the pills.  

"There's a doctor that all the Rangers go to for medicals. His name is Dr Frisk. He's a water rat."

"Excuse me, these pills stop me from hibernating. I have to take them every morning and evening." He dry swallowed the pill with practiced ease, as though he had been doing it his whole life. "Miss, if the person in hospital is an impostor, don't you think that Dr Frisk there would have noticed? I mean, he has you medical records, he knows you…"

"I don't know why he hasn't noticed. Perhaps there's another Doctor treating me. I mean, her." 

"Another Doctor treating you? Who would that be?"

"How should I know, I'm here?"

"Okay, have we got anyone who can act as a character witness? Friends? People you've worked with? Teachers?" 

"The Rescue Rangers. There must be hundreds of people I've helped over the years."

"At last report the rangers were holding a bedside vigil. How do you think they'll react to getting a message asking them to be a character witness for someone accused of impersonating Gadget Hackwrench?"

"Monty and Chip will both be furious, Dale will be confused and Zipper will want to come just in case I'm telling the truth." 

"Alright, it's against my better judgement but I'll send a message asking for one or more of them to come. Is there anyone else we can rely on?"

"Jen! I thought of calling her last night but she's not on the phone!" 

"Well, I guess it's not all that common; unless you happen to be human, that is. It's not the expense so much as the risk of discovery. I hear some places have their own lines though, completely separate from the human network." 

"I've been to a few of those places." 

"You have? Staten City?" 

"Yes." 

"To bad you have to fly to get there in less than a day. I could ask them to adjourn the trial, but that will mean you going be held on remand. If you won't give them a name besides Gadget Hackwrench then there's no way I can ask for bail." 

"Are you saying a fake could be back on the street by lunch time but the real Gadget Hackwrench can't get out of jail at all?" 

"Are you quite sure there isn't another name that you could give the court?" The dormouse's eyebrows wiggled, suggestively. 

"No!" 

"Ah ha! Now we're getting somewhere!"

"I mean there is no other name that I can give the court." Gadget yelled. 

There was a hostile silence. 

"Look, this is just the arraignment, you know. It could be weeks before a trial date. Frankly I think the longer the delay the better. It would give people a chance to cool down." 

"What? No! Absolutely not! I want this over with today."

"That is definitely not in your best interests. I have to tell you, I haven't had time to look through your file properly. I only got this case an hour ago. I haven't been doing this job very long. Plus, everyone hates you!"

"Hates me?!" Gadget's eyes misted over and her jaw hung slackly. 

"You're accused of impersonating a mouse who is very highly regarded in this city. She's practically another Bianca Raboga. Plus; people might not think about who she is and what she does all the time but the week you picked to get caught is the one week the papers are screaming her name like she's Joan of Arc on the eve of the barbecue."

"I'm Gadget Hackwrench! This is insane! I can't be represented by someone who doesn't believe me!"

"I'm not obliged to take your case if I don't believe what you're telling me. If you want to get another lawyer then you'll have to wait for another one to be assigned. That means…"

"I know. I know. Remand." 

"Which is probably for the best, given the public feeling. I mean; I don't need to do a survey to know that people are angry right now. So, what do you want to do?" 

"I want you to send a message to the Rescue Rangers telling them the real Gadget Hackwrench is in trouble and needs their help!"

"Okay, if that's what you want. What about this "Jen" you mentioned? Can we contact her?"

"I'll give you her address. Can you get to her before we go to court?"

"Probably. But from what my boss told me when he gave me the case, they want to get this out of the way before it turns into a circus. The arraignment is at ten. Any other friends? Asides from the Rangers, I mean."

"A few. I'll write their names and addresses down. But you can get them here for the trial, right?" 

"Yes. I'm sure we can."

"Here are the addresses. Jen works evenings so she should be in."

"Is there anyone else you want me to contact? Any evidence at all to back up your claim?" 

"Nothing comes to mind. I could give them a lecture on aerodynamics if you think it would help."

"We're supposed to prove your claim to be Gadget Hackwrench, not whether or not you are an engineer."

"But everyone knows that Gadget Hackwrench is an inventor! Surely proving that I know the things that an inventor knows would strengthen my case?"

"That's exactly what the prosecution would say after your lecture. Any impostor would learn enough basics of Gadget's job to be able to bluff their way around normal folks." 

Gadget rested her chin in one hand. "Maybe I should approach this from a new angle. I know!" Her face brightened suddenly. "How do you prove who you are?"

"What, me? I'm not on trial here!" 

"Seriously, what do you do when someone wants to know who you are and they need more than your name? Like when the guard let you in?"

"Uh, well actually, the guard who let me in was my cousin." 

"Well, suppose he wasn't!"

"I would have shown him my identification. My law degree, my birth certificate. I always carry one of them for identification."

"I have a birth certificate, but it's at home."

"Great, where's home!"

"Rescue Ranger Head Quarters!"

"Oh, boy! Look, I think maybe you should get another lawyer."

"I don't have time!" Gadget looked pleadingly into the dormouse's eyes. "Please?" 

The dormouse didn't stand a chance.

"Uh, okay. Boy, I hope I know what I'm doing. Look, one thing I do know: you can't show up in a courtroom wearing that thing. Asides from anything else, the male jurors wouldn't hear a thing I said."

"My other clothes are at-"

"I know, I know. Rescue Ranger headquarters. Don't worry about it, I have a sister about your size. I'll bring you something else you can wear." 

I need to get some advice on this and I don't have much time." The dormouse began gathering up his papers. "I'll see you at the arraignment." 

"Wait, what's your name?"

"Franklin. Franklin Kafka." 

"Seriously!?" The door closed on Gadget's amazement. 

34

At ten minutes to ten, Franklin Kafka requested an interview in the judge's chambers. The Prosecutor was already in court awaiting the start of proceedings and was asked to join them. 

"I was wondering, your honour, how you would feel about having my client assessed by a psychiatrist?" 

"Before the arraignment? I don't blame you for asking but I'd have to think very carefully before allowing it. It would be opening the door to an insanity defence." Judge Harpon said thoughtfully.

"The state would have to strenuously fight any such defence. There is ample evidence to show that these crimes were committed solely for material gain." The prosecutor added.

"Do you have a psychiatrist in mind?" The judge asked.

"No, your honour." 

"Well, in that case I suggest you save it for the trial." The judge told him. "Not that committing her straight away wouldn't have advantages. It's not going to do anyone any good to prolong this, the prisoner included. Longer it goes on the bigger the circus will become." 

"I'm afraid the District Attorney's office feels that wouldn't be justice, your honour."

"So your boss told me when he spoke to me this morning. I imagine that Mr Kafka's superiors have had similar conversations with him?"

"What? No! What are you talking about?"

The judge and the prosecutor exchanged long looks and sighed. Eventually the prosecutor shrugged and sat in a chair on the far side of the room, leaving the judge to explain alone.

"Son, I don't believe I've seen you before…"

"It's my first case." 

Deeper sighs.

"Okay, this is how it goes and if you repeat any of this you can forget trial law in this town, got it?" 

Franklin nodded. 

"The public is about to loose a hero, by the looks of things, and some of them are out for blood. There's no question that the prisoner is guilty. If she's released on bail, either she'll be lynched or she'll disappear. Either way we'll look like morons. 

If we have a long drawn out trial then it'll turn into a media circus, which is the last thing anyone, the prisoner included, needs right now. She's obviously setting up for an insanity defence and once that happens the waters will get so muddy that the liberals will scream miscarriage of justice if we convict and the conservatives will scream break down of law and order if we don't. Either way, we could have a riot on our hands when we finally get a verdict." 

The judge sat back and took a long breath. Franklin opened his mouth to say something, but the old mole cut him off.

"Now for my money I'd be as happy to see her in a padded cell as any other kind of cell, but the District Attorney wouldn't and it's his decision whether to fight an insanity plea or not. He's made it clear he would."

"This is outrageous!" Franklin yelled. "I've never heard of anything like it!"

"If it's your first day on the job I'm not surprised. Before you rush off all indignant, remember that your boss knows as much about it as anyone else. Son, we all work to bring about a just and fair out come in the normal scheme of things. Sometimes we can't achieve that by working in the way we would all like." 

The judge peered into the dormouse's angry, bewildered eyes. "If you have a problem with any of this, including the fact that barring a miracle you are going to lose this case, then my advice is not to take the case or to have your client sit in remand until you're ready to fight it tooth and claw." 

There was a long, uncomfortable silence while the judge and the prosecutor watched the loss of innocence, a sight that is never as pretty as the phrase implies.

"What if I've already agreed to take the case and my client refuses to wait in remand? She insists on going to trial today." Franklin asked.

Even deeper sighs.

"Son, in that case you're on your own."

35

Gadget Hackwrench, a Rescue Ranger in need of rescue, a prisoner accused of a crime she did not commit, looked nervously at the guards on either side of her. The truth was that she was tired and frightened. She had been tired and frightened many times before but this was only the second time she could think of when knew for certain that no one was coming to help her. Her friends thought the real Gadget was with them, dying, perhaps dead by now. 

She took a series of deep breaths to help clear her mind but the air was stale and too warm to help. To pass the time she had made a list. 

Since noon the previous day she had found out that two of the people she depended on most in the whole world were keeping secrets from her (and important ones at that), she had narrowly escaped serious injury from a failed invention (again), been so badly bruised that she could barely sit down (Please, Lord, let the seats in the courthouse be padded.), had her vehicle stolen (two of her vehicles, if what she had heard about the Ranger plane was right), been drugged and knocked unconscious in a bar fight (she still didn't feel right in the head or stomach), been arrested and locked up over night (There had been a chance to wash, at least, but she was sure she had caught fleas from the mattress and that some of them were still with her.) and finally deprived of coffee. Surely there was something in the constitution about allowing a prisoner her morning coffee? 

Franklin Kafka's sister had supplied the dress she was wearing. It was the only good thing she could think of right now. The floral pattern reminded her of Dale's shirts and it had a high ruffled collar that left nothing on display. The skirt stopped somewhere south of her knees and the whole thing was too large for her, but she would have died of embarrassment if she had been forced to stand trial in the red mini-dress she had borrowed from Jen.

Despite that one mercy, Gadget was bruised, aching and sore. Worse, she was also caffeine free. She had only had three hours sleep from worrying about her friends, who were probably going to go mad with grief if the impostor died on them. The horrible truth was she wanted to get hold of the person responsible for all this and duct tape her to a space shuttle, hospital bed and all. 

Well, Gadget thought, at least it would be over soon. It couldn't get any worse than this. 

One of the guards opened the defendant's door to the courtroom.

A ringing chorus of boos, hisses, whistles and shouted insults exploded in Gadget's ears. The already tender muscles at the base of her tail tensed as the end began twitching madly, a fear response designed to draw the eyes and aim of a predator away from the vital areas of her body. She had meant to walk into the courtroom with her head held high and her gaze steady to show her confidence. Instead the sounds of hatred had her pulling back, fighting the grip of the guards who were trying to push her towards the roaring, angry mob.

Thus, the first sight of her the public had was of her digging in her heels, struggling with the guards, her eyes and head jerking wildly around the room looking friends, enemies, a way out or a place to hide. Looking for anything but a way of facing the kind of justice that was waiting for her.

Gadget found herself being led to the defence table where Franklin was already sitting. When she joined him, she noticed a stain on the shoulder of his jacket where someone had thrown a rotten red grape at him. Tomatoes can kill when you're a mouse. 

"What happened?" She shouted in his ear.

"There was a crowd waiting for your trial since seven o'clock. It could be a lucky break!" He yelled back. 

The crowed jeered. A dried pea flew between them and bounced off the desk to the accompaniment of the Judge's gavel. 

"How could THIS possibly be a lucky break?"

"It helps establish grounds for appeal! Oh, and I got to give an interview to a newspaper reporter saying how justice must be approached with a pure heart and an open mind and that everyone, especially you, was entitled to a fair hearing."

"There's a rotten grape stain on the back of your shirt."

"I know, I think the reporter threw it when I turned my back."

The judge hammered the bench again and this time the noise died, largely because two large officers of the court were throwing out the worst of the troublemakers. Before speaking he fixed Gadget to her seat with a particularly venomous glare. To cap it all, Gadget had just realised that the chair she was sitting on had a large coin for a seat. 

"This court will come to order!" The mole on the bench roared. "The defendant will stand."

Gadget rose, unsteady in her manacles. 

"Bailiff, will you read the charges against her, please." 

One of the rats began reading from a clipboard. "The defendant is charged with nine counts of fraud, twelve counts of deception, twenty one counts of misrepresentation, eighteen counts of theft, one count of lewd conduct in a public bar-" 

Gadget shrieked! "What?! That's absolutely ludicrous! Are you insane?" 

"Mr Kafka, explain to your client that if she interrupts again I can sentence her to three years for contempt of court right now, without any of us having to go to the trouble of a trial." 

Gadget sat, her ears so far down that her hair hid them completely. "It's not right. I was drugged, I tell you!" she hissed into Franklin's ear.

"Well, for heaven's sake don't tell them that. They'd add narcotics use to the charges!" Franklin hissed back.

"One count of lewd conduct in a public bar, assault, affray, causing a public nuisance and property damage." The bailiff finished.  

"Does the defendant understand these charges?"

Gadget started to rise but Franklin put a firm hand on her shoulder and pushed her down again. Gadget sent him a glare that wasn't missed by the courtroom. 

"She does, your honour." Franklin spoke for her.

"What plea do you wish to enter?"

"Last chance to plea guilty." Franklin whispered in her ear. "Or enter an insanity plea." 

"No!" Gadget practically shouted. 

"Alright, alright."

"Mr Franklin, it is customary in most cases for the defendant and the lawyer representing them to reach an agreement about what plea will be entered before the court is in session." The judge said pointedly.

"Defence wishes to enter a plea of not guilty, at this time, your honour." 

There was a moment of silence and then the shouting began. It began with machine-gun rattle of exclamations around the public benches and became a deafening roar of screamed abuse and whistles. 

The judge used his hammer again, but no one could hear it. Finally he stood and shouted. "If this court is not silent I will have it cleared! I will see to it the last person to be silent is locked up even before the defendant is!" 

The court quietened slowly. Just when it seemed they had order, a young mouse boy blew a particularly juicy raspberry at the judge, who fixed him with fierce, red-eyed glare, even as the boy's mother clapped a hand across his mouth and gave a desperate, apologetic smile to the bench. 

"Now, then. Was that not guilty by way of insanity, Mr Kafka?" 

"No, your honour. Just the regular she-didn't-do-it kind." Franklin swallowed and glanced at Gadget. Even he was having trouble hiding his disbelief.

"I see. Does either side wish to make representations to the bench at this time?"

Franklin looked at his client, who gave him a stern, if feminine, look. "Uh, no, your honour. Defence just wishes to proceed to trial as speedily as possible."

"Prosecution also wishes to proceed straight to trial, your honour." 

"Very well, we will proceed to jury selection. Will the officer of the court bring in the first candidate?"

The officer of the court brought in a large pack rat was and the prosecutor began to ask searching questions. At length. 

"How long does this usually take?" Gadget asked in a low undertone. 

"Huh? Oh, well, usually the second day of trial. We're already kind of rushing things." 

"I don't have that long! The sooner we get to trial the sooner I can clear myself and get out of here." 

Franklin avoided her gaze. "Oh, well. That's too bad, but you see we should really be careful about picking a jury. You see we really need to make sure we get impartial people on there. No one with an axe to grind." 

"By the time we're done everyone is going to know who I really am!"

"What do you want me to do, tell them it's okay to skip the trail all together and go straight to a lynching? One of the bailiffs confiscated tar and feathers at the door you know."

"Just pick a jury as quickly as possible." 

"But-"

"No buts. I want to get this whole thing over with today!"

"Then you should have pleaded guilty. There's no way you can try a not guilty plea in less than three days." But as he said it he made the mistake of looking into her eyes. They were begging him, commanding him, threatening to break his heart simply by disliking him for one solitary second.

"Mr Kafka, did you hear what I said?" The judge enquired.

"Uh, I'm sorry, your honour. I was conferring with my client."

"Do you wish to ask this juror any questions?"

"Um. No, your honour, he'll do fine."

"You're certain?" The judge gaped at him.

Franklin sighed. "Yes, your honour. I'm sure he'll a fair juror." 

"You don't even want to ask him why he brought the tar and feathers?" 

Franklin winced. He really should have been listening to the questions the prosecutor asked more closely. 

"Uh, I'm quite sure I don't need to be hear it, your honour." 

"And you don't object to this individual acting as a juror?" 

Franklin opened his mouth to say: "Of course we do." Then he felt his client's eyes on his back, silently damning him if he did. "No; we don't object, your honour." he actually said. 

And so it went on. The prosecutor would ask a few pertinent questions. Do you know the defendant? Do you find her attractive? (Three males were disqualified for saying they did, one was also fined by the judge for phrasing it as "Oh, **** yeah!") Could you put aside your all too understandable hatred for the crimes and look at the person accused of committing them in a fair way?  It took only two hours to select a jury. 

"Can we finally get to the trial now?" Gadget complained. Her rump was killing her. 

"No. It's lunch time."

***

  


36

"You're absolutely sure?" The Judge said after the court had reconvened. 

"Yes, your honour, quite positive. We accept the prosecution's evidence unchallenged. Except on the point of the defendant's identity." 

The Judge looked hopefully at the Prosecution.

The prosecutor shrugged. "I certainly can't object, your honour." 

The Judge scowled. He knew the prosecutor was right, of course. "Will both counsels approach the bench?" He ordered. 

Franklin felt like a schoolboy who had just been called to the principle's office. 

"Just what the heck do you think you're doing, Mr Kafka?" 

"My job, as my client instructs me to."

"You have to be kidding? They'll tear the place apart." 

"Who?"

"Them! The public, who do you think- No, don't look at them! Look at me when I'm talking to you! There is no way you can convince anyone of this nonsense!" 

"I have witnesses. I can put my client on the stand." 

There was a sigh of defeat from the bench. "Alright, but tread carefully, Mr Kafka."

The prosecution case took longer than Franklin Kafka had predicted. By four o'clock the prosecutor had finished displaying his evidence with an almost casual air of over confidence. The jury had listened to every word with hardly a blink or a cough between them. An experienced defence attorney would have recognized that as a bad sign. Franklin, however, was distracted by the constant fidgeting in the chair next to him. 

Leaning over he asked: "Nervous?"

"This seat is killing me." She replied.

It was four-twenty when they reconvened for the second time and Franklin Kafka played what he hoped would be a get-out-of-jail-free-card for his client. "I call Jennifer Talbert-Hall to the stand." 

Jen took the stand with wide eyes and her ears laid back. She was frightened and it showed. When Franklin smiled reassuringly and asked her to identify herself she answered hesitatingly. Her red-rimmed eyes fluttered about the room as she spoke. 

"Do you know why you're here?" 

"No. I got a message asking me to come because Gadget Hackwrench needed me here." 

There was a stony silence. Then the judge said: "Mr Kafka, would you approach the bench. Now." 

Franklin tried to bury the memory of an unpleasant interview he had endured in junior high school, but it was the thirteen-year-old Franklin Kafka who walked slowly forward. 

"Have you brought this lady here under false pretences?" The Judge demanded.

"No! I mean, if I prove my case the message I sent will have been true!"

"And if you don't?" 

"Then I'll apologize."

"You'd better! I'll see to it you do! Resume the deposition."

For a horrible moment Franklin thought the judge had said: "Assume the position", and his jaw dropped. 

"Well, don't just stand there. Get on with it!"

"Uh, pardon, your honour?"

"Ask your questions, darn it!"

"Oh! Yes, your honour." Returning to his witness, he asked: "Ms Talbert-Hall, might I ask how long you've known Gadget Hackwrench?"

"I first met her when I was just a little girl. Her father was staying in England with her. I met her again when we were both teenagers and most recently about four months ago when I started to live and work in the States." 

"Objection!" The prosecutor rose from his chair.

"It's a perfectly straight forward question!"

"How do we know that the mouse the witness met four months ago and has known for the last four months is the real Gadget Hackwrench?" 

"I'm sure you'll be able to go into that when you cross examine, Mr Javert. Proceed."

A more experienced defence lawyer would have realised that the Judge's ruling was not a victory. The Prosecutor had managed to get his point heard by the jury in a way they would remember. Franklin made the mistake of allowing himself a smug look that earned him the instant dislike of two of the jurors. 

"Ms Talbert-Hall, can you identify the mouse sitting over there?" 

"I don't think so, no." 

The courtroom was in uproar. Franklin was nearly having a heart attack. Gadget was very nearly in shock. 

"What?! You mean she isn't even slightly familiar?" 

"She looks a lot like my friend usually does, but I read in the newspaper that she's in hospital right now." 

"Ms Talbert-Hall please look carefully. Could the person in that chair be your friend?" 

"I don't see how. Everyone knows-"

"Please, Miss, I beg of you. Put aside everything you have heard outside this courtroom and go by what your eyes alone tell you at this moment."

"My eyes tell me that the mouse in that chair is the right size, but Gadget has much lighter fur and yesterday Gadget came to me yesterday we dyed her hair auburn so no one could impersonate her. This person doesn't have auburn hair, your honour."

The public gallery erupted in angry noise. 

"I did dye my hair!" Gadget shrieked over the noise, her voice, harsh, hysterical and unrecognisable even to her. "I washed it out this morning! I don't know why my fur is darker in here! It must be the light or something!" 

"Order! I will have order!"

"I'll have a slice of humble pie and whipped cream, your honour." Franklin joked in a quiet voice he thought that only he could hear. But one of the jurors, a vole, had sharp hearing and made a note on his notepad. 

Gadget's patience snapped. She launched herself forward, shouting. No one could hear her over the racket, anyway. "Jen, why are you doing this to me, you spiteful little witch?"

Unfortunately the officers of the court managed to restore order just in time for the last sentence to be heard, though not clearly or correctly, by most of the court. 

"Bailiff, you will take the defendant from the courtroom and return her with a gag in her mouth!" Thundered the Judge, who's hearing had been declining with age in recent months and was ringing from the assaults it had been under that day.

The public gallery cheered. 

37

A few minutes later in one of the little rooms next to the courtroom, Gadget was standing stiffly to attention. Franklin joined her just before they fastened the buckle behind her head. "Well, you did it this time!" he said, shaking his head. "I don't know what we're going to do." 

"Mmmmfff." Gadget said sadly. 

"Do you mind? I need to confer with her." Franklin continued as they removed the gag for a brief moment. "For what it's worth, I was standing close enough to hear what you said a little clearer than the judge. I know you called her a witch and not… anything worse." 

"Is that what she said?" asked one of the guards in surprise.

"I wondered, but to you want to be the one to tell his honour?" one of the others replied.

"Heck, no. He's in no mood to be contradicted." 

"Amen to that." Franklin agreed. "We'll just have to live with it." He took a breath. "Miss, I told you that I don't have to represent someone if I don't believe them. After what your so-called friend said in there I need some more convincing, or permission to change your plea to guilty."

"Okay, okay. Jen's always been short sighted but her mother was on the stage and Jen's always been a little vain because of that so she never wears glasses. She had contact lenses custom made in Europe, I remember asking her all about it, but she was so red-eye when she got on the stand I guess she wasn't wearing them." Gadget blinked for a moment, suddenly realising something. 

"She's been crying." Gadget realised. "Probably because she thinks I'm in hospital. Oh, this is horrible. She really doesn't know who I am."

"When she gave evidence, she did go be colour rather than features." Franklin considered. "And with all the noise in there, I can see why she wouldn't recognize your voice." 

"It's okay, we can go back now things have calmed down, you can ask her stuff about her contacts, get her to take a closer look at me-"

"No. I can't do that. See," Franklin broke off awkwardly. "Well, Jen was a lot further away from you than I was and, well, the fact of the matter is she misheard you like the judge did and got all upset after they took you out of the room. The judge sent her home for the day." 

"What? But that's terrible! What are we going to do?"

"Don't worry, I've got another witness from the hospital where they're treating Gadget- I mean, the impostor, and all we have to do is ask what colour hair she has. That'll be all it takes to clear you, or at least make them take us seriously enough to get the rangers here." 

"Unless the impostor has had her hair dyed too. She had people waiting for me when I left Jen's apartment so she might have if she took the time." 

The door to the courtroom opened and a bailiff told them it was time to go back in. It had already been made clear to Gadget that she would be held down and forced to accept the gag if she did not co-operate. She had offered to put it in herself, but the shackles bound her hands to her sides and the guards had refused to remove them. There is something about allowing someone else to put something in your mouth, however wholesome and clean, which makes you feel vulnerable and awkward. 

One guard held her jaw with one hand and used the other to press the gag home. The other did up the strap behind her head. As they led her back into the courtroom, the straps were already pinching her ears.

38

The Judge banged his hammer as hard as he could. It was unnecessary, really; the court became silent in favour of gawking at the gagged prisoner as soon as she entered. 

"Mr Kafka, may ask if you have anything to say to the court?"

Franklin took a deep breath and his career in his hands. "Yes, your honour. I'd like to call my next witness."

The entire court gasped. 

"You have another witness?" 

"Have I got another witness?" Franklin laughed lightly and then suddenly looked uncertain. "Uh, do I have another witness?" he asked the bailiff, who nodded. "Yes, I do, your honour!" 

"I wait with baited breath." His Honour said, dryly. 

A middle-aged squirrel lady took the stand. She was wearing a white uniform that could have been from a hospital or a beauty parlour. Unlike Jen, this witness seemed calm, collected and ready to stare down a human; let alone a rookie trial lawyer. 

"Could you identify yourself to the court?" Franklin asked. And to me, he added in the privacy of his own head. 

"My name Florence Dodd. I'm a senior nurse at the Small Animals of Mercy Hospital." 

"I see. And what brought you here today?" 

"Your message to Doctor Frisk, who is on a month's holiday in the Bahamas at the moment. You asked that someone who had seen Gadget Hackwrench could come down here and give evidence." 

"When did you first see Gadget Hackwrench?"

"I passed her in the corridors a couple of times when her work brought her in. I told her where to find someone she wanted to visit once a year or so ago." 

"When did you last see her?" 

"When I helped prepare her for surgery after she was brought in yesterday." 

There were angry murmurs from the public gallery. 

"How was she identified when she arrived at the hospital?"

"From the paperwork and her clothes." 

"The paperwork that was filled in by the people who had found her unconscious?" 

"Yes." 

"Who had never met her and only knew her by her clothes?" 

"Objection!"

"Sustained. Mr Kafka, you know perfectly well that the witness doesn't know every single person Gadget Hackwrench has ever met."

"Of course, your honour. Ms Dodd, did you notice anything about the patient that struck you as unusual?" 

"Objection!"

"Sustained. Mr Kafka, have you ever heard of patient confidentiality?" 

"Does patient confidentiality extend to telling us if the patient's hair was dyed?" 

The Judge blinked. "I don't know, but I'm quite willing to take it under advisement." 

"Yes, her hair was dyed." Nurse Dodd decided the issue. 

"It was?" Franklin looked stricken. 

"Definitely." Nurse Dodd repeated the damning fact. If Franklin asked her how she knew, Nurse Dodd would let him feel the sharp edge of her tongue. She had undressed the patient and seen for herself that the mouse they had brought in was a natural red head, not a blonde. 

Franklin was stumped. All it would have taken were two words, to free his client and win a victory that would have made him famous and successful for the rest of his life. The words were: "What colour?" But the first thing through his mind after the shock wore off was his client saying: "Unless the impostor's dyed her hair too." 

Finally, aware of the sound of drumming fingers coming from the bench, he asked: "Nurse Dodd, could you tell me if my client is at all familiar to you?"

Nurse Dodd, who wasn't in the least short sighted, looked sternly at the prisoner. "If she were paler and her hair was a different colour then maybe she'd look like Gadget Hackwrench. But she looks a little skinny compared to the real thing if you ask me." 

It could be the dress, he thought, but his confidence in his client was almost entirely gone. My sister's bigger than her and likes loose clothes, Franklin told himself, but he knew the only thing saying it out loud would get him was a laugh from the public gallery. 

"Uh, thank you. No further questions." Very slowly Franklin Kafka returned to his seat. 

The Prosecutor rose. "If that concludes the case for the defence, I would like to call a rebuttal witness to some of the testimony just heard."

"Seriously?" The Judge goggled at him. "I can't imagine how rebutting anything the last two defence witnesses have said would make the prosecution case stronger!"

"Call Zoë Merrieford to the stand."

Franklin Kafka scribbled "who?" on a legal pad and looked at "Gadget". His client looked at him with lost eyes and shrugged. 

Together they watched a tall, young female mouse take the stand. She was wearing a uniform Gadget knew she had seen before but could not place. Zoë identified herself, puzzling Gadget, if no one else in the courtroom. What was a museum guard doing here, unless they were going to accuse her of that too? But no one had tried to blame her for it, yet, because she had been found so far away from the museum. 

"Ms Merrieford, could you tell us when and how you first laid eyes on the real Gadget Hackwrench?" 

"It was at my job. I'm an assistant tour guide at the Museum of Culture and Antiquity. She was in a tour party there about three days ago." 

"I see. And you recognized her by sight, because she was well known."

"No. I don't read the newspapers and I don't leave the museum often. I didn't realise who she was until after we started talking about some of the artefacts." Actually, they had talked about the alarm systems guarding them but Zoë had forgotten that. "She introduced herself after the subject of the rumours about her came up." 

"After the subject came up?" 

"Yes. I'm afraid I mentioned it. She asked me what I thought about them. I don't recall what I said, but she told me that she hoped that the person responsible would be caught and punished soon!" 

Cheers sounded from the back of the room and there was a smattering of applause. 

"And what else did she say?"

"Towards the end of the conversation, she called me a friend. I know it doesn't mean as much for some people as it does for others and I know that she's a friendly person who would probably do as much for a stranger as she would for a friend but, I believe that she meant it and that she would call any other good person in this court a friend, if she could talk right now!" 

"Thank you, Ms Merriford." 

Zoë opened her mouth to say something more but realised that she probably couldn't top the impromptu speech she had just given and that if she said anything else she would most likely only succeed in making a fool out of herself. 

"Mr Kafka, do you wish to cross examine?" 

"Mmh? Wha?" Franklin Kafka's eyes had taken on a glazed, lost look. Beside him, the prisoner began mumbling into her gag.

"I said: do you wish to cross-examine?" the judge repeated slowly. 

"Huh? No, not today…" Franklin mumbled, his eyelids drooping dangerously and his face as peaceful and relaxed as meditating monk. The mumbling became an indistinct and indignant grunt. 

The Judge and the Prosecutor exchanged significant looks. The air in the five o'clock courtroom had been made heated and stuffy by it's repeated journey through five hundred pairs of lungs through out the day. Dormice are famous for their hibernating instincts, so much so that some animal space programme experts wanted to send them to Mars. It had been a big day for the new lawyer and it was _that_ time of year again for Franklin Kafka.

Together and without a word between them, both Prosecutor and Judge saw their chance to put the whole mess to bed, along with the bumbling stooge the Public Defender had sent along to a job he couldn't handle. They gave each other a gentle, almost unnoticeable nod, and then busied themselves shuffling papers. 

"Mr Kafka," the judge said, gently, "are you planning to call any more witnesses?" 

The prisoner began to struggle in her shackles. The officers of the court moved at once to restrain her. She did not continue to struggle, but the sound of her voice grew louder as she tried to get her lawyer's attention. 

"Whaa?" the dormouse replied. 

"No more witnesses?" 

The prisoner's muffled pleas were frantic by now, her eyes going from her own chair to the witness stand. 

"No." Franklin Kafka said in a voice so tired it might have come from beyond the grave. 

Her gag choked the prisoner's shriek of protest.  

"Then I believe it's time for the closing arguments." The Judge said. "I know it means prolonging this beyond the hours the court is in session, but I think we're very close to a conclusion." 

The prosecutor stood as close to the jury as he dared and spoke in calm, even tones that were loud enough to be heard by all, yet curiously lacking in strong emotion or sudden changes of pace. Things that might in fact shock a sleeping person back into wakefulness. The jury watched him solemnly, listened carefully and thought about what the witnesses, Zoë especially, had told them. 

"Defence will now make their closing argument." The Judge said, flatly. 

Franklin Kafka seemed to be hanging his head. His weight was supported by the way his elbows rested on the table. He gave no answer to the judge's prompting. 

"I know you may be having trouble finding the right words after the evidence we heard today. Nevertheless, we must have a closing argument from the defence, Mr Kafka." The judge waited for a response, not really expecting one. Mr Kafka did not surprise him. He took up his hammer again and struck the bench once, with considerably less force than he had at other times that day.

"Huh, what?" Franklin looked around in a daze. 

"We need to hear your closing arguments, Mr Kafka." 

"I don't have one!" Franklin yelped in alarm. Understanding he had been asked to perform an action had jolted him back to full wakefulness. 

Pow! The Judge's gavel cut through the babble of surprise that had threatened to interrupt proceedings. "Then we'll proceed to straight to the conclusion of this business! Bailiff, take out the jury so that they can consider the verdict." The old mole spoke so quickly that he didn't have time to take a breath between sentences. 

Franklin jumped to his feet to object, but another crack of the gavel silenced anything he might have said, as did the sound of several hundred people standing up to get some fresh air outside the courtroom. He looked towards his client and had a tortured moment of eye contact with the mouse-maid who, innocent or guilty, he had just failed so badly. Then the guards took her away. Groaning, Franklin began gathering his papers. He felt so tired and sick of it. He just wished that it would all go away. Yawning, he staggered to his feet and walked to the door at the side of the court. 

"Do you want to talk to her again, Mister?" one of the guards asked in the waiting room a moment later. 

"Sure, sure. Just give me a moment." Franklin replied, sitting on a bench. Less than a heartbeat later he was sound asleep. 

"Poor guy, I hear it's his first day on the job." The older of the two guards said.

"Sure picked a heck of case to start with!" the other shook her head. 

"We'll let him rest for a moment." They agreed. 

The younger guard looked over at the prisoner, glaring at her sleeping lawyer. "What about her?"

"Against the rules to take the gag out unless she's conferring with her lawyer or the judge says so. You know that." 

They both shrugged. The prisoner rolled her eyes. Franklin snored. By the time they tried to shake him awake, fifteen minutes later, the sleep had deepened into full-blown hibernation. 

39

"Hibernation? Are you sure?" The judge asked the bailiffs. "Has a doctor been called?"

"Your honour; in view of the circumstances we took the unusual step of asking Nurse Dodd, who gave evidence, to take care of him. She has found a bottle of pills which she says are for treating narcolepsy." 

The only sound in the courtroom was the sound of the prosecutor slapping his own forehead. "Your honour, at this time the prosecution could not oppose a retrial more strongly! The jury is ready to deliver a verdict and we don't even know what it is yet!" 

"I'm aware of that, Mr Javert, and believe me this is one trial I don't want to try a second time, but the defendant is entitled to be represented by a lawyer and right now she doesn't have one."

"Her lawyer had concluded his case! The only thing left for him to do was shake his head and shrug his shoulders, or congratulate her as she walked free."

There were murmurs of agreement from all around the court. Slowly, the judge nodded.  

Gadget was brought in and placed in her old position, but before she could resume her uncomfortable seat, the judge spoke again. "The prisoner will approach the bench."

An apprehensive Gadget was led forward.

"An unusual situation has arisen." The Judge told her, forgetting that she already knew. "Your lawyer has been rendered incapable while the jury is considering its verdict. That does not effect their decision on whether you are guilty or innocent. 

"It does mean that if you are found guilty and wish to appeal the sentence or the verdict, you will need to wait until your lawyer wakes up or you will need to find a new lawyer. Verdict and sentence will have to be delivered before you can appeal against either one. Is all that clear?"

Gadget nodded. 

"Take her back to her chair." The judge said.

The jury was brought in. They looked tired but self-satisfied. They had spent less than an hour considering the verdict. 

"Foreman of the jury, have you reached a verdict?"

"We have."

"And what is that verdict." 

"Guilty on all counts!"

Gadget shut her eyes tightly. It's a mistake, she told herself, they don't mean it; they wouldn't say that if they knew! They would get this straightened out, any minute. The judge would rule a mistrial and she would be turned loose. These were good people, Gadget kept reminding herself. They didn't mean her any harm. They just felt the way Gadget had, when she had listened to the stories of robbery and deception for the first time.

"Defendant, you have been asked several times to provide a name other than Gadget Hackwrench. If I told the bailiffs to remove your gag, would you do so now?"

Gadget opened her eyes and shook her head defiantly. 

"Then, under the court imposed name of Jane Doe, I sentence you to a total of fifteen years imprisonment! The last three years for contempt of court in your earlier conduct and in refusing to give your correct name through out these proceedings! The two years before that are for the bar-fight you started before you were arrested and the ten years before that are for your various acts of fraud and deception. It is my final recommendation that you not be considered for parole until the final three years of your sentence." 

Gadget felt like each word was a wave breaking over her. She was drowning and there was no water in sight. As the judge went on her legs grew weaker and her eyes rounder. She had thought that she would be able to testify in her own defence but Franklin's nap had cheated her out of that. It finally sunk in that she was going to see the inside of a real prison before she saw her friends again. 

Fear began to take over from frustration and disbelief. She couldn't go to prison. She didn't belong in prison. She had to find someone who would listen to her. She was gagged and her hands were still fixed to her sides, but her feet were free. 

As the guards came to lay hold of her again, Gadget threw herself over the barrier between the court floor and the public benches. She landed badly heavily on one knee at the feet of the first row of spectators. 

Screams broke out as Gadget scrambled to her feet. A male mouse stepped forward to block her way. A memory of knocking down some gangster's henchman came to mind as she slammed her shoulder against his chest and sent him sprawling. 

Gadget leapt over the prone mouse and started running. Strangely it seemed that the guards were the only people trying to stop her. No wonder so many bad guys thought they could get away with it. 

"Stop her!" Thundered the judge.

She was half way down the aisle now. Astonishingly, she the guards she had left behind her seemed not to be chasing. Ahead of her, the main door to the courtroom had been propped open to let air circulate. The guard stationed there was missing. 

She was going to make it. A corner of her mind was already making plans about where to go next, after the courtroom.

In the last few strides before the door, the missing guard reappeared and threw himself at Gadget in a desperate tackle. 

She had no warning and no way to steady herself or fight him off. 

Reflexes trained by years of Ranger work saved her. She jumped sideways and the guard landed heavily on the floor. With one last leap she was through the door and free. 

Unseen by Gadget, one of the guards knelt in the aisle shouldering a crossbow. No sooner had she cleared the door, than the plunger harpoon was fired and struck home with a painful thump. 

"I've got her!" The guard shouted. 

"Good work! Reel her in, boy!" The judge praised him.

With the help of his friends, the guard hauled on the crossbow to drag the fallen prisoner back into the courtroom. Gadget had no choice but to lay face down and still; with her hands shackled she couldn't right herself, or do anything about the glue-coated plunger arrow that was firmly stuck to her rump. 

Brought down with my own invention, Gadget thought, it's like having your own children turn on you! 

The inventor remembered building the crossbow to retrieve unreachable bodies and catch escaping felons. Adapted from the ones she used in her Ranger work, the bow was made from a watch-spring and the bowstring was high gauge fishing line, looped through a four-wheel pulley system. The suction cup on the end was the real break through- it was covered in quick setting adhesive and the edge of the suction cup was kept folded against the shaft of the arrow to make it more aerodynamic in flight. It was one of her finest inventions. It could reel in an escaping felon from six feet away, which was long range, to a mouse. 

As she was pulled further and further into the court more of the gaping crowd saw where the plunger had hit home. A ripple of laughter began, starting from around her and spreading outward. When it reached the walls of the court it grew louder, until it echoed so much that it was still ringing in Gadget's ears on her way to prison. 


	6. The Thief, The Guide and Saint Peter

**_Disclaimer_**

_In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone…  except a certain kind of lawyer._

**Chapter Six**

**The Thief, The Guide and Saint Peter**

40

Saint Peter's hand rested flat on one page of the book. Lawhiney rested on his hand. They had finished reading some time ago but Saint Peter seemed to be in no hurry and no one else had come by to object to, or interrupt, their conversation. 

"Thank you for not just-" Lawhiney hesitated, unable to find the right words "-packing me off to-" here she knew the words. She just could not bring herself to say them "-wherever it is I go."

"That's quite alright, Lawhiney." The gentle human voice rolled over her again. 

"I think I needed some time to adjust."

"Most people do." 

"It's odd looking back on things. I liked the part where I stole that make up to give my mother a present, but the part where I rescued that tribe-mouse's little girl from drowning was just annoying. I don't even know why I did that. There were two or three tribe mouse around, they could have rescued her just as easily and I wouldn't have ruined my only dress and had to wear a grass skirt from then on."

"They didn't rescue her because they knew how dangerous it was, Lawhiney. You didn't know because it was your first day on the island and you didn't stop to think when you saw the wave coming but, if you hadn't been so quick on your feet, you and that little girl would both have been swept out to sea." Saint Peter told her.

Lawhiney frowned, replaying the memory in her mind. Eventually she shrugged. "I guess. But I didn't know. If I had-"

"Don't dwell on that." Saint Peter cut her off. "You did a good thing and it's a point in your favour. There are enough bad things that you would have done if you had the opportunity, without worrying about the good things you wouldn't have done if you had a second to think about it."

"Do those bad things count against me as well?"

"No, of course not, Lawhiney."

"Running away from home seemed so brave and exciting. Did that count for me or against me?"

"Against. You knew your parents loved you and you weren't in any danger at home. Your mother's rules and punishments were meant to protect you, all too often from yourself. You put yourself in danger and you never once considered the worry your mother would feel for you." 

Lawhiney was quiet for a moment and then said: "It's more bad than good, right?" 

"Yes."

"That's what I thought." And she was quiet again. Eventually she asked: "What happens to me now?"

"Why do you ask, when you think you already know the answer?"

"I go to… the place for bad people." Her voice was resigned. 

Saint Peter shushed her. "Don't be so melodramatic. Do you imagine your sins are so terrible you can't make up for them?" 

"Even though I'm dead?" 

"You aren't dead yet, Lawhiney."

"WHAT!?" Lawhiney jumped bolt upright.

"You are very close though. Close enough that you can make a choice." 

Lawhiney stared at him, her eyes popping. "You mean I don't have to go to hell?"

"Nobody goes to hell unless they chose a path that takes them there, Lawhiney. You have chosen a path that takes you awfully close, but it's not too late to change direction." 

"Oh, please, please, tell me more?"

"It's very simple, Lawhiney. Because you're still alive your paperwork hasn't been processed, so to speak. You can still make things worse by sinning, like you did when you stole the pearl from the gates I'm supposed to be guarding." 

Lawhiney shuddered at the memory. 

"But that also means you still have time to be sorry for your sins." Saint Peter continued. "If you are truly sorry, and you do have to be truly sorry for absolutely everything you've done wrong, then you can enter heaven right now. You're earthly body will die, but you will be forgiven all your past misdeeds."  

"I'm sorry! I am so fricken' sorry it is unbelievable! I repent everything." 

Saint Peter looked at her sadly. "I said sorry. Not scared and desperate."

"I am sorry! How can I not be sorry? I'm on the verge of going to H-E-double-hockey-sticks for all eternity."

"It's one thing to be sorry that you're going to be punished, it's another to be sorry you did something wrong because you did something wrong." 

"I am sorry! For a lot of it…" Lawhiney trailed off, her eyes glazing as she looked inside herself. "I'm not though, am I? I did all these things and I'm going to go to hell for them, but I can't be sorry for all of them. Why is that?"

"Sometimes a person's sins are so much a part of who they are, that to be sorry for them is to be sorry they lived. Life is a precious gift, Lawhiney. It's hard for anyone to be sorry they received it. 

"I said you had a choice, Lawhiney. You can return to life. Simply wake up. I can't show you what that would mean for certain because so much depends on your own decisions and my job is to deal in things that have happened, not things that might happen. But I could ask a guide to show you." 

"I'd like that." Lawhiney said and she marvelled at the honest gratitude in her own voice. "Thank you." She said. "Thank you very much." 

"You're welcome, Lawhiney. Follow your guide and he will show you what you need to see." Suddenly, Saint Peter seemed either a lot taller or a lot further away than he had before. 

Lawhiney felt her insides tighten with fear and wondered how that was possible when her real body was so far away. "Saint Peter? Can you hear me?" 

"Follow your guide…" came a distant rumble. 

Lawhiney looked around, suddenly apprehensive. Standing a little more than an arm's reach behind her was a figure dressed in a hooded grey robe. The figure's face was shadowed and unrecognisable; it's hands hidden in the sleeves of its costume. 

"Are you my guide?" she asked.

The figure's hood flopped forward once and then lifted slowly. It could have been a nod. 

"So, where do we go from here?" Lawhiney asked.

The figure pointed over her shoulder. Lawhiney turned. She was in a prison. 

"Uh, you know this is a prison, right?" Lawhiney asked. The figure led her forward, through an exercise yard. Doors that should have stayed locked opened in front of them and there were no exclamations of surprise, or rushing guards, or escaping prisoners. 

The guide led her to the hospital wing, where cries of pain were coming from the bed in an institutional-green walled room. Lawhiney flinched at the deep, raw, wails. The figure beside her was pointing to the bed, clearly pressing her to go closer and look beyond the screens that provided the scant amount of privacy the patient, or victim, was allowed. 

The longer Lawhiney stalled and hung back, the louder and longer the cries seemed to go on. Her hands were shaking when she pulled back the curtain and stepped through- to come face to face with her self!

The Lawhiney in the bed was wearing a prison uniform and she was heavily pregnant- although that was about to change. Labour was clearly almost over. 

"Uh, hello?" Lawhiney said. She looked at her guide. "Why is she alone like this? There should be someone helping her!" 

Before the guide could answer a desperate shout came from the bed. "Hey! Someone help me! My baby! Where is everybody?" 

Footsteps were heard outside the curtains. A hand pulled them rudely apart, leaving the new mother exposed to the room. 

"Are you done yet?" a cold voice in a uniform said. 

"My baby, I don't think it's breathing." 

"Perhaps that would be for the best. At least he, I think it's a he, would never know who his mother is. Or should I say what his mother is?" 

Lawhiney struggled to retrieve her baby from the foot of the bed. She dragged the tiny, wet, limp body up to her chest and pressed her mouth to its sticky nose. There was a choking sound, followed by a splutter. Then a baby's cries filled the room. 

The real Lawhiney, or at least the Lawhiney who was standing next to the guide she had come in with and who hoped she was the real Lawhiney, breathed a sigh of relief. Her hands were shaking and her eyes were wide. She was going to be a mother. And a prisoner. 

Well, it was better than hellfire. 

"What shall I call you?" The new mother asked her baby. 

"Call him? You won't call him at all. You don't think they would allow someone like you to keep a baby, do you? In a place like this? No, the orphanage will name him."

"Orphanage? You can't. He hasn't even opened his eyes yet. If you take him away now he'll never see me!" 

"You know more than half of the kids that come out of those places end up as the scum we lock up in here." 

"Please, let me spend a little time with him." Lawhiney begged as the baby was prised out of her arms. She could have held on tighter, but like any mother she preferred to let her child go rather than see it harmed be holding on too tight. 

"Why should I?" The cold voiced guard asked. 

"Because, because…" 

"Too late." The guard replied. 

"Baby!" Lawhiney yelled from her bed as the guard carried the child away.

The Lawhiney watching from the corner of the room was shaking. This was her future, for crying out loud! She didn't want to live through this! She had never thought of herself as anybody's mother, but someone had just taken something that was HERS away from her and she understood all about that. She ran forward. The guard couldn't see her; it would be an easy fight to win, so long as she could find a way to make sure the child didn't get hurt.

Before she caught up with the cold voiced guard, she vanished through the doors. Lawhiney followed without a thought and found herself…

…in the Rescue Ranger's living room. 

Lawhiney looked around. No guard or squalling baby to be seen anywhere. In fact, she was alone. There was a polite tap at the front door. Lawhiney stared at it in confusion. What was she supposed to do? Open it? What would she say to whoever was there? "I'm not actually Gadget Hackwrench, I'm just on a tour of the future because I almost died and went to hell for impersonating her. Have you seen my guide anywhere, by the way?" 

Before Lawhiney could decide what to do the door opened. The cloaked figure of her guide stood there. 

"Uh, I decided to go on ahead." Lawhiney said. 

The guide revealed one surprisingly normal-looking hand and wagged a finger at her. 

"I shouldn't do that, uh?" Lawhiney guessed. The hood twisted as though the figure inside was shaking his head. "Sorry." Lawhiney offered.

The guide entered and led Lawhiney to the mantle piece over the fire. On it stood an all too familiar photo. Gadget Hackwrench. For some reason she wasn't wearing her familiar overalls; she was wearing a graduation outfit, black robes and a flat square hat with a tassel on it. Next to the photo, someone had pinned up a newspaper article with a picture of Gadget accepting a medal from some VIPs. 

"Doesn't look like she's done too badly. What's the big deal about showing me this?" 

The guide pointed at the newspaper article and for the first time spoke, in a hoarse, angry voice. "Read."

Lawhiney blinked. 

The newspaper article read: - 

_"Gadget Hackwrench, 24, of the Rescue Ranger organization, received an award from city officials today in recognition of her good service and the many acts of bravery she has performed for the people of the city. Ms Hackwrench achieved notoriety several years ago during the reign of terror Rat Capone held over the city and was one of the many brave people who brought that reign to an end. Her celebrity status brought her trouble, however, when a long-lost relative impersonated her and caused her to be wrongly convicted on several counts of fraud and deception-"_

"So that's what happened to her!" Lawhiney said, and burst out laughing! She couldn't help herself. She had hated Gadget for so long. 

Every time someone had looked at Lawhiney as if they were better than her, Lawhiney had thought: I bet they wouldn't look at Gadget Hackwrench like that! And whenever Lawhiney had been done something that made her feel cheep or tacky, the memory of Gadget Hackwrench confronting her in Hawaii had risen like Lawhiney's long lost conscience. 

The figure of the guide was standing very close to Lawhiney now, but she had not noticed. As she laughed, the time came when she had to take a breath. She did, raising her head at the same time and looking directly into the shadows of the hood. Her own nose was less that a finger's width from the nose of her guide, yet the only part of the being's face she could see were his eyes. 

And what eyes. 

They seemed to be shine with a light that burned from deep inside but which left the pupils as flat, black holes that could have been painted on for all the warmth they showed. 

Lawhiney choked. This time she couldn't even manage an apology. This was her soul at stake, she remembered. Terror gripped her. From the depths of the guide's cowl came a single word. "Read." 

Lawhiney riveted her eyes to the newspaper clipping, hoping she hadn't blown her chances for good. 

_"-in the fall of last year. In a series of scandalous bungles that resulted in the resignations of nearly a dozen officials in law enforcement, justice, correctional and public defender's departments she remained in prison over the winter, finally suffering serious injuries in the Shrankshaw Prison riot in January. It was shortly after this that the circumstances relating to her imprisonment were fully investigated and she was released into the care of the Rescue Rangers, pending a retrial. It initially seemed that despite the case of mistaken identity prosecutors and prison officials were reluctant to let her go, due to charges relating to her time in prison and her initial arrest. Her cause quickly became celebrated across the city and those charges were subsequently dropped in March._

_"Since then, Ms Hackrench has been on a leave of absence from the Rescue Rangers. The decision to make today's award was made after she announced her decision to make this absence permanent. "'I've been through a lot of good times and bat times with the Rangers." Ms Hackrench explains, "'but my injuries from the prison riot haven't healed as well as we all hoped and my confidence isn't what it was.'" Asked what she intended to do with her free time from now on, Ms Hackrench replied that she intended to go to Europe to watch a friend perform on the stage and possibly to study at one of England's famed universities._

_"Chip Maplewood said: "'Anyone who's seen us together, I mean the Rangers together, will know how much she will be missed.'" Asked if her absence would pose problems for the Rangers as a team, he replied: "'We continued to work through out last winter, which is our busiest season, despite not having her with us at the time. We relied on volunteers and probationary rangers to fill the void she left. Non-rangers provided technical assistance to keep our equipment running.'"_

Lawhiney made a "hmmm" noise as she read the article through a second time. "Hey, they say I'm a long lost relative! Is that true?" She looked to her guide, who turned away, his head bowed. "Mind you," Lawhiney mused, "they also misspelled her name through the whole article." 

Lawhiney was surprised to feel her guide's hand on her shoulder. For a moment she tensed up, fearing some kind of supernatural retribution for her unrepentant nature. Instead she found the caped figure reading over her shoulder. 

A sudden thought struck her… was this happening before, after, or at the same time as the visit to the hospital? If this was further into the future, then that might have been Gadget she had seen giving birth. It made sense; after all, Lawhiney wasn't pregnant, as far she knew, and going by the newspaper article she wasn't going to have much time to get in the family way between getting over her injuries and going to prison. 

Lawhiney thought that on some level this was meant to be make her feel repentant and change her into a better person… unless Saint Peter had been speaking the literal truth when he said this was what might happen if she returned to earth. If he truly had meant that, then what happened after she woke up didn't necessarily have to be interesting, or relevant… 

Lawhiney's nose wrinkled. What did any of this have to do with her?

Her guide seemed to have forgotten her. The reassuringly normal hand had been outstretched towards the photo of Gadget Hackwrench, as if her guide wanted to pick it up, but wasn't allowed to. 

"Huh. What's she got that I haven't? If you want to play, I'm right here, buster." 

Lawhiney hadn't meant the words to be heard but the guide spun to face her, his hand raised to strike her. His eyes blazed bright enough to put any escaped lab rat to shame. 

Lawhiney shrank back in terror. Before the blow could land, a crash deafened both of them. 

Frozen, Lawhiney and her guide watched as Monty stamped across the room. He was soaking wet and his head was bandaged. He walked straight to the kitchen and came out chomping on a piece of cheddar the size of his own head. 

Two female squirrels and a bat entered after him, nervously, and stood looking anywhere but at Monty's face. A moment later Zipper and a mouse in a battered trench coat and a hat decorated with hanging corks followed them. 

"Hitting the cheese a little early in the day, aren't we, son?" The mouse asked in a heavy Australian accent. 

"Not after what I've just bloody seen!" Monty answered.

"Now you watch your language in front of the ladies! Your mum would wallop you a good one if she heard you, and then she'd ask where you leaned that language and wallop me!"

"Oh, pipe down, Dad!" Monty returned to his cheese. "I've seen some messed up rescues in my time, but… Who's idea was it to surprise the bad guys by coming in through the sky light?"

The younger of the two squirrels, a redhead who looked a little young for ranger work, nervously put up a hand. "Um, I read some of Chip's notes between cases. He said that the element of surprise…"

"Did he say anything about not using a rubber band instead of a rope?"

"Um, no." 

"And do you know why, Tammy?" 

"No." Tammy said in a tiny voice.

"Because Chip isn't stupid enough to bungee jump into a room full of alley cats! That's why! And what did you learn while you were bouncing up and down on the end of that rope?" 

"That next time I should think things through more carefully first?"

"There isn't going to be a next time! I'm formally disbanding the Rescue Rangers!"

"You can't do that! Coming back to work is the only thing that Chip lives for! You know what it's like where he is!" The young squirrel was distraught.

"Yeah, I know, Tammy." Monty growled. "Maybe it's not fair, offering him false hope, like we have been. When did someone last come in here with an honest to goodness rescue for us? Take this last job- a panicked mother comes in with a ransom note and we take the case. It turns out that the note was part of a game the cub was playing with his friends and by the time we find out we've kicked down the door on a cult of vegetarian cats who, by the time we've spoiled their weekly sacrifice of a carefully sculpted carrot-and-radish mouse are now about as vegetarian as Hannibal Lector. 

"In the course of this heroic adventure, three of us get captured by the now no longer vegetarian cats, who have gone from singing "'All Creatures Great and Small'" to dancing round us as we turn on a spit over a two bar electric fire. The fourth elected to turn herself into a new kind of cat toy by jumping through the skylight on an elastic band and wound up being catapulted- emphasis on the CAT, there- back through the skylight and half-way across the neighbourhood." Monty finished his cheese, but didn't seem to take any pleasure in it. 

"To crown it all, we got rescued by that new team that opened across town, who have that monkey guy who can fly by using his tail as a rotor-blade." 

The other people in the room watched him eat. It wasn't a pretty sight. 

"Where is Chip?" asked Lawhiney. She whispered, though she strongly suspected it was unnecessary. 

The guide pointed back to the mantelpiece. Lawhiney looked carefully and found a newspaper cutting tucked behind the framed article on Gadget's award ceremony. She glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone would notice her reading it, then chided herself for being foolish. Old habits died hard. 

This article was much smaller than the one on Gadget, which had a photo of her wearing a medal and a fixed smile for the camera. There were no pictures at all in this one and it barely ran to fifty words, as though it had been tucked away in the back of the paper as an afterthought, or a space-filler. 

"'Rescue Ranger committed.'" Lawhiney read out-loud. "Chip Maplewood, once a noted detective, was admitted to the Fairwinds Hospital for Emotionally Troubled Rodents today, reputedly suffering from depression. Friends cite chronic over work, stress and the decline in the Rescue Ranger's standing amongst crisis volunteer groups as the causes for his condition."

Lawhiney tucked the newspaper cutting back into its hiding place. "Couldn't happen to a nicer guy." She said. "Say, what was the deal with that baby we saw?" 

The guide was right next to her. She turned. His face was an outline, a shadow on perfect darkness. She stared into it, trying to make out some detail. When she found she couldn't, she stepped back. 

There was nothing there for her to see. The discovery struck her as profound and sad in way she didn't understand. As she wondered why she made another discovery. While she had been staring at him, there had been another change of location without her noticing. 

They were standing in a chapel of remembrance. There were many such places. Small animals only rarely buried their dead. Having a body to burry was rare enough that burial had never become a mainstream tradition. Lawhiney's guide looked right at home here. He walked past several of the older plaques that were mounted on the side of the room and stopped by one of the first recent ones he came to. 

He pointed to a plaque. 

"It died?" Lawhiney asked, her voice shrunken. She peered through the gloom, trying to read the words. 

The plaque read: "_In loving memory of Jimmy Redfurn, squirrel, age 10, taken from us by a flood_."

"Huh? Who's he? Do I know him?"

The guide stepped forward and pointed to another plaque. 

"Isaac Burntpaw, loving husband. Died in a forest fire with Donnie and Melissa, his two beautiful children."

"I don't know any of these people." Lawhiney said. 

"They will live, if you do not." The voice was sombre. It stopped Lawhiney like a slap in the face. 

"What? What are you trying to tell me here? The plaques tell you how these people died. Floods and fires. I didn't kill them." 

"If you live, they will not." 

"What? I could start a forest fire, maybe, but a flood? What to I look like, some kind of cartoon super-villain? Heck, I'd save them if I could." But her face fell on the last word as understanding dawned. "Wait, wait a second. I get it. You're saying that the Rangers would have saved, I mean, will save these people if I choose to die instead of go back to living, right?"

The guide nodded. 

"Because Gadget won't quit?" 

The guide hesitated, seeming to consider his answer before he nodded. 

"That's her decision, not mine! I can't be blamed for that! No one here died because of me!"

The guide pointed to a third plaque. It read: "_In remembrance of Dale Oakmont. Rescue Ranger and truest friend anyone could have. Murdered by a cheep fraud and impostor._"

Lawhiney stared at it. She frowned. She set her jaw. She stuck out her lower lip. And then she looked her guide straight in the hood and snapped her fingers at him. 

"Ha!" She said. "Do you think I'm impressed by that? You forget; I'm going to be a reformed character when I go back! Do you think I want to have another scare like this? When I get back to my real body, I'm sticking to the straight and narrow. I'll just disappear into the sunset and take things slow from then on. No more crime, a steady job. Maybe find myself some hunk with a steady job of his own to shack up with; maybe even marry him and become an honest woman." 

Lawhiney nodded to herself. It sounded convincing to her ears. "Saint Peter himself said this was only a guess at what would happen if I go back to life. Besides, the plaque doesn't name me. It just says "'a cheap fraud and impostor.'" That could be anyone. Heck, I like Dale. He's the last Ranger I'd kill. He's kinda sweet in a clueless way." 

The guide turned and walked away. 

"Uh-uh. Not this time, buster. If you want me to follow you're going to have to answer some questions." 

The guide looked back at her from a small doorway. It shouldn't be possible for a hood to frown, but the hood on the guide's costume did. 

"Who was that in the hospital bed? Me, or Gadget?" Lawhiney asked.

The guide pointed to Lawhiney.

"Me, huh?"

A single nod. 

"So, they're going to lock me up and take away my baby?"

Another nod. Lawhiney lips grew thin and her eyes hardened. 

"What happened to the baby?"  

The guide turned and pointed out the door. Lawhiney followed him, sullenly. "This had better not be a trick." 

They were standing in a darkened boiler room. Under the boiler, five hoods were playing cards. Lawhiney recognized none of them. 

"Hey, Capone, is it your turn to deal next?" A squirrel with black trench coat and his moll, a strangely familiar redheaded squirrel, were on one side of the table.

Capone, a rat who dressed and talked like he was auditioning for a forties gangster movie, sat opposite. "Yeah, that's the ticket."

"Then I'd be obliged if you took your cigarette case off the table first. Some card sharks use them as mirrors to see what cards they deal." 

"Hey, what are you'se suggesting?" 

"That you take the flask off the table if you don't want me to sit the next hand out!"

Capone shrugged. "If it bothers you. It's empty anyway." Over his shoulder he yelled: "Hey, cockroach, bring in that champagne I told you to put on ice. I want to celebrate my big win." 

A moment later a small mouse boy, no more than an inch and half high, pushed in a bottle cap packed with ice that was almost as big as he was. An uncut mane of blonde hair spilled down his back. He was wearing shorts made out of a brown paper, like humans used for wrapping parcels, and nothing else. They rustled audibly over the scraping of the wide, ice packed bottle top as it scraped against the floor.  

Lawhiney moved to where she could look into the boy's eyes. They were clear and blue. His face reminded her of someone. Who? Shaka? Brandon? That mouse in the last small town they had fleeced? There were half a dozen possibilities but, whoever the father was, the boy got his colouring from her; that was for sure. 

His back was straining with the effort of moving his burden. Despite the effort, the child smiled with a guileless desire to please. Lawhiney looked into his eyes and for the first time in her life, she fell in love. It was a mother's love.

"That your boy, Capone?" The squirrel asked.

"Yeah, all bought and paid for. Legal too!" 

"Slavery's legal now?" asked the lizard, who was sitting closest to Lawhiney.

"Nah, but adoption is. You'd be amazed who they let adopt these days." Capone laughed. "Hey, cockroach, ashtray's full. Bring us a new one." 

"Yes, Pa." 

**BONK!** Capone's fist resounded against the boy's skull. The gangster hadn't held back his strength either. 

"I told you never to call me that, damn you! I'm not your Pa! No one knows who your Pa is, most likely not even your Ma, wherever she is." 

The boy had taken the blow without complaint. He found a new ashtray and brushed out the residue with his shorts. 

"THAT BASTARD! He doesn't know what a gem he's got there! Why, look at how hard that boy's working!" Lawhiney looked pleadingly at her guide. "Tell me he doesn't stay here long! He can't stay here, he's better than this."

Before the guide could answer, the squirrel's voice rose high across the table.

"Hey, Capone, I hear you made a big score! We going to be seeing any of that on the table tonight?"

"Hell no, that stuff is too rich for you guys!" Capone answered.

"That right? Perhaps you'd care to bet some of it against this?" The squirrel put a large, strikingly familiar pearl on the table. It was the size of a rodent's head. 

Capone's eyes grew large. "I thought the Danger Rangers got that!" 

"Heck no, it rolled down a sewer drain and I traded a comic book to Sewer Al for it." 

"A comic book?"

"A rare one." 

"I heard he was blind now."

"He's got someone to read for him. Adopted, like you."

"Ya don't say? Okay, I'll bite. Are the rest of you in or out?" 

"Out."

"Too rich for me."

"Me too."

"Go get something sparkly from the hidey hole." Capone snarled at the boy.

The boy scurried away and came back with a diamond broach that he had to carry in both arms. Capone snatched it from him and placed it where everyone could see it. "Deal, Sugar-Ray." 

The cards were issued to the players.

"Say, I haven't seen you in this neck of the woods before. Where did you say your turf was?" Capone pried.

"Upper east side. I'm head of a new outfit, see?"

"I haven't heard of you before."

"Oh yeah? Well, you're going to. Say, did you steal that diamond yourself, or did you have help?"

"Ha! Naw, it was just me, and a couple of goons and the kid there! He was a real help, crawled in through a hole no one else could have got through."

The game continued. Lawhiney looked at the boy carefully, but the boy was oblivious to her and only had eyes for the game. Before long it was time for everyone to lay their cards on the table.

"I got three aces, see?" Capone smirked.

"I got an ace, a three, a seven, a jack, a king and this!" The squirrel laid down a gold badge with the letters "D" and "R" emblazoned across it, separated by a lightning bolt. 

"What's that? It's too late to up the ante!"

"He ain't raising the stakes in the game, you moron! He's one of the Danger Rangers!" yelled one of the mobsters who had watched the hand.

"Run for it!" yelled another.

There was a clatter of chairs and feet followed by shouts from all around. "Everyone stay where you are and put up your hands!" Yelled an unmistakable cop voice.

"Top of the world, Ma!" Yelled Capone as he pulled a mouse sized gun from his jacket and kicked the table over. The pearl went flying.

"Run for it, son!" Lawhiney shrieked. 

But the staring boy was knocked flying by the pearl. He rolled over it and it rolled over him, again and again, until he hit a wall. The boy sat there with the pearl in his lap for a moment. 

In the centre of the room, Rat Capone was holding the redheaded squirrel hostage while her boy friend spouted clichés. "You'll never get away with this, Capone!"

"Sure I will, just watch me!"

Lawhiney spared the situation a glance and realised she recognized the hostage from her earlier visit to the Rescue Ranger Headquarters. It was Tammy. She was more grown up now, but the hair and eyes were unmistakeable. Lawhiney found herself looking for the other Rangers, hoping she would find a familiar face she could trust with the safety of her son. She was disappointed. 

There was no sign of Monty, Zipper, Gadget or Chip. Instead a rat with glowing eyes and a hooded raincoat stepped out of the shadows with a bolt raised as a club. Capone twisted his hostage round to act as a shield. A mole and a huge tarantula spider advanced on Capone as a team; close behind them a female bat shouted advice. 

The boy watched, fascinated, as the Danger Rangers encircled his master. Slowly a sly look crept over the boy's face and his eyes fastened on the pearl in his lap. Suddenly, he was up and running with the pearl in his arms, his tiny eyes fixed on the treasure like it was the only beautiful thing in the whole world. 

"Atta boy!" cheered Lawhiney. Beside her, the guide buried his head in his hands. 

Capone squawked as the redheaded squirrel girl threw him over her shoulder and dropped him head first onto the card table, which shattered under the blow. The male squirrel who had played the part of the new gangster in town jumped on top of the crook and began wrestling with him. 

"Hey, the kid's making a break for it with the pearl!" a delicate feminine voice warned from above.

"Aw, go put on some clothes, ya snitch!" Lawhiney yelled at bat that had been circling the boiler. 

"Go get 'im, Foxy!" called the rat.

"No!" Lawhiney began running after her son, hoping he would escape on his own, knowing there was nothing she could do to help if he did not. 

The boy was fast on his feet but he was young and inexperienced. Instead of staying close to the base of the walls, where cover was plentiful, he took a short cut across the centre of the boiler room. Foxy swept down and snatched him up with practiced ease.

Lawhiney yelped as she saw the boy leave the ground. Before she could even stop running, the boy's still peddling feet passed over her head as the bat carried the runaway back.

Lawhiney skidded to a halt like a baseball player sliding into home. By the time she had hotfooted it back to the small group of volunteer crime-busters, Tammy was holding the pearl and squirrel had the boy tucked under one arm. 

"The museum mice will be pleased!" Tammy said.

"And we could use some good press after Capone put one over on us at the museum. Did you get whole thing on tape, Foxglove?"

"I think so, I'll go check." The bat flew off. 

"What'll we do with this little one?" The spider asked, scratching his head with one of his many feet. 

"Well, ordinarily I'd say send him back to the orphanage and wish him better luck next time, but you heard what Capone said. He was in on the robbery and he made a break for it with the pearl when we showed up. I guess we'll have to hand him over to courts, same as the rest of this low-life, and hope they manage to work things out for him."

"He's so young." Tammy said sadly. 

"I know, but better to catch them young than wait until they're to big enough to hurt someone, sweetheart. They're experts, they'll know what to do for him." 

The guide caught Lawhiney by her arm. She ignored him. "He didn't mean it! Can't you see that? He's just a boy, for pity's sake!"

She tried to follow the group but found herself unable to pull away from the cloaked figure that had brought her here. As the group moved out of sight she rounded on him, her eyes bright with anger and tears. 

"Damn it! I'm not even here! What can I do about this? You were in the hospital! You saw that I didn't want to give him up! Why are you showing me this?" The guide remained silent. He began leading her into the shadows in the corner of the room. "I think you're just trying to hurt me, that's all. Get me all upset so I'm confused when it's time to make that decision Peter said I could make." 

The guide raised one finger to his mouth. It was the first time Lawhiney had seen his whole face. Like the hand, it was almost disconcertingly normal. "Shhh." He said.

They were standing in an alleyway, sheltered from the eyes of drunks and cats by a dumpster. A tall, handsome adult mouse with blond hair was playing dice with a rat, a little distance away. 

Lawhiney stared at the pair for a moment. The mouse was wearing a black, knee-length leather coat, dark trousers and a pair of wrap around sunglasses that hid eyes as blue as Lawhiney's own. He rolled the dice with a laugh and a grin. 

"That's him, isn't it?" asked Lawhiney. "All grown up. How long has it been?" 

"Ten years." The guide replied. 

"Snake eyes again!" Lawhiney's son cursed his luck with language that a mother shouldn't hear her son use. Lawhiney didn't notice. 

"Ten years." She whispered. "Just like that he's a grown up."

"Hey, that's fifty g's you owe me. And I'll take it in Stilton. No mouldy cheddar, like last time."

"Sure, Joe. No problem. Say, would take five now and let me pay the rest off after payday?" 

"You don't got a job, Roach." 

"Roach!?" Lawhiney yelped. "People are still calling him that?" 

"I've got something lined up. It's easy pickings." Roach told his friend.

"No deal. I know plenty o' guys who lined up easy pickings- only they're the ones who got picked up! You pay me now, or I got to tie a knot in your tail and ask you again next week."

"Okay, Joe. No getting around you, is there? Come with me, I got your cheese stashed in my pad." 

The two moved off. Their unseen companions followed. A few minutes later they walked through a broken ventilation grill set at the base of a wall. They were making their way up a staircase made out of discarded Pentium processors when Roach reached into his pocket for the key to his door and pulled out a weapon instead. 

Joe's eyes went wide as he looked first at the squat, black, flashlight-like object and then at Roach's face. Joe opened his mouth to say something but a silver line like a radio antenna snapped out from the end of the weapon and wrapped itself around his head like a tentacle. 

There was an electrical buzzing and Joe went limp. His helpless body crashed down the stairs, passing through the invisible forms of Lawhiney and her Guide as easily as it passed through shadows. 

Lawhiney looked down at it. Slowly, as the shock wore off, she found herself rationalizing what had just happened. "Hey, the guy threatened to tie his tail in a knot. It was self-defence. Haven't you ever heard of a pre-emptive strike?" 

Her guide folded his arms and glared at her from under his hood. In a puff of smoke they were relocated to the bottom of the stairs. 

Roach stood over the body of his "friend". "Aw, man. I'm sorry. Couldn't you have just waited a lousy week? Five grams of Stilton is all I have." Roach turned his attention to the weapon that was lying beside Joe. "I hope this thing isn't busted. I need it for the job tomorrow." 

A door at the foot of the stairwell opened and a tough looking lizard stepped out. 

"Hey, what's all the commotion? Oh, hi Roach. Who's this guy?"

"Ah, he's just some bum who tried to get the drop on me. There's two g's of Stilton in it for you if you help me mail him to another city." 

"You know I don't eat cheese."

"You can trade it."

"Oh. Okay then, I guess." 

The two began shifting the rat's heavy frame towards the door. 

"Stop looking at me like that!" Lawhiney told her guide. "Okay, so my boy plays a little rough. It's not like he's a murderer or anything."

From the alley way came a scream from the lizard. "CAT!"

Lawhiney was out the door and into the alleyway before her guide had time to blink. 

Roach and the lizard were running for their lives. The cat was a huge brute, who took up every ounce of space between the dumpster and the wall. Roach and his friend dived into an old soup can that was lying on it's side, then peeped out to watch as the cat turned the limp form they had abandoned over with a paw. 

The face of Roach's gambling partner twitched in terror, but his limbs remained limp. 

"Oh, good." Whispered the cat. "I do detest eating things that are already dead."

With those chilling words, the cat picked up the helpless body in its mouth and walked away. 

The lizard removed his hat in respect for the not-quite-yet departed. When the cat was out of sight, he replaced it. "Well, I guess that saves you the postage. I'll wait for my Stilton back inside."

Roach was left alone, staring at the ground where he had left a friend to die. "Next week, you bum. All you had to do was wait one lousy week. I don't know if I'm a coward or a murderer. But there's one thing I do know. This time next week I'm not going to be living like this. I'm going to be rich. And then I'll start a business, see. Find a nice mouse girl, start living the good life."

Lawhiney swallowed hard. Her eyes were misted with tears for some reason. 

"I don't care what you say. He's not a murderer. He didn't mean it and he's sorry, just like me, you hear? He says he's going to settle down and live right just as soon as he's able to." 

The sky grew dark and the ground under her feet changed. It was nighttime and they were standing on the roof of a human building. An air conditioning vent stood less than a metre away from them and as they watched the grate opened. 

Roach dropped a line from the vent and slid down it with practiced ease. Three more rodents, a squirrel and two rats, joined him. All were wearing backpacks. 

"That was easy." Laughed one.

"Yeah, except for that extra alarm system. I thought every alarm in the place would start ringing." 

"It didn't look like it had been put in by a human, that was for sure." 

"It wasn't, you crooks!" Yelled a voice from the edge of the roof. 

Blazing lights illuminated the robbers, casting long, stark shadows. Lawhiney had time to realise that neither her guide nor herself had shadows before the robbers started running. 

"Say the word boss!" said a familiar bat that was carrying a portable halogen spotlight. It was Foxy; the first time Lawhiney had seen her, the bat had been carrying off her son. Now she hated the bat with a renewed passion. 

"The word!" shouted a voice Lawhiney recognized all too well. It was Gadget Hackwrench. Her hair was greying and her figure had sagged, but she had aged gracefully. 

A dozen uniformed rodents poured over the roof. Working in threes they brought down Roach's three companions easily. 

Roach ran; dodging left and right around two mice that thought they could football tackle him. 

The Rangers, whatever they were now calling themselves, had stationed themselves against the edge of the roof where the robbers had secured their line to the ground. He ran in that direction anyway, knowing there was no other way down from the roof.

A huge rat blocked Roach's way but he snapped out the weapon he had used on Joe and suddenly the ranger was curled up into a ball of pain. Roach used the fallen figure as a springboard to leap up to the wall that ran around the roof. 

"Stop!" Gadget yelled.

Roach grabbed the line and began to slide down it, only to find his feet gripping air after a few inches. Sickeningly, he felt his grip begin to fail. 

"We cut your line! There's no way down!" Gadget told him, unnecessarily. Looking over her shoulder, straight through the horrified Lawhiney and her impassive guide, Gadget saw that she was the only unoccupied Ranger on the roof. Even Foxglove was helping subdue the robber-squirrel. 

"Give me your hand." She told Roach.

Roach looked up at her in disbelief. "I can't reach." He said.

"Yes you can! Try using your feet on the wall."

Roach managed to lift himself a little way. When he was sure, he reached out a hand and grasped Gadget's. At the very moment she tightened her grip, his hold on the line that had been cut failed. 

Roach gasped.

Gadget screamed. Her body was flattened against the brickwork of the roof's wall. She tried to improve her grip with her other hand, but it was gloved and wouldn't close properly. Roach's free hand clawed at her sleeve, trying to hang on, but the days of Gadget wearing overalls were a distant memory. The blue uniform shirt she was wearing tore, revealing an arm that was laced with scars. 

Roach stared at the scars in surprise and puzzlement. He looked questioningly at her, then her grip on his hand weakened and he disappeared into the darkness below.

"I'm sorry." Sobbed Gadget. She turned over and lay on her back, the sounds of law and order all around her, knowing that there was no way anyone could have survived a fall like that.

Lawhiney stared. Very slowly, her hand went to her own cheek, which was dry. She looked at her tearless fingers and then to Gadget. 

"I'm sorry. I tried." Gadget said again. "If only they hadn't hurt me so bad in prison." 

"I can't cry." Lawhiney said. She was standing somewhere new, courtesy of her guide once again. The body of her son was lying on concrete, a pool of blood spread wide around it. "Is that something you've done to me?" 

"No. That is something you have done to yourself."

"Can it be undone?"

"Only by you and with time."

Lawhiney found herself standing on mist. The air was filled with light. Her guide stood beside her. Standing over them was Saint Peter. 

"Hello again, Lawhiney. I see you've had a hard journey."

"Yes sir." Admitted a humbler and more respectful Lawhiney. "Am I to make that choice now?"

"You know what will happen if you chose to stay on this side?" 

"I'd go to hell." 

"You would face judgment. Even I cannot tell you the outcome."

Lawhiney looked at him.

"I'm required to say that." Saint Peter explained. "Admittedly in your case it doesn't look good, but you've made a lot of progress since you got here." 

"If I die, will I still get to meet my son?"

"Not unless he's already been born, no. People who never existed go somewhere else- Oh, nowhere unpleasant!" He reassured her. "But even if you were allowed in here after judgement, you still wouldn't be in the same place as him after you were judged."

Lawhiney looked deep into her heart. With a terribly serious look on her face she asked: "If I chose to die now, is the place my son will go to better than the one he would go to if he were judged as a grown up?"

"No one can tell you that, Lawhiney. I would say a lot depends on what kind of mother you are to him."

Lawhiney thought very carefully before she spoke again. She knew what she wanted to do, but the memory of everything she had seen was very fresh with her now. Would her good intentions fade with the memory? 

"How much of this will I remember, when I wake up?" She asked suddenly.

"Not all. Less as time goes by."

"What do I do if I go back and I forget what I've seen? How will I stay good if I don't know why I'm doing it?" 

"Your guide could go with you, if you like. He could counsel you when you lose your way." 

"He doesn't say much." 

"Really? Someone told me he was quite talkative." Saint Peter looked at the guide, curiously. The guide responded by acting like a small boy with an attack of shyness. "Oh, well." Saint Peter said. "Perhaps the robes make him feel self-conscious. It's the first time he's worn them you know."

"Really? That is, I've made my decision, sir." Lawhiney said. "I'd like to thank you for being so kind to me, especially when you knew everything about me and didn't have to be nice at all. Thank you."

"You're very welcome, Lawhiney. I hope things work out for you." 

"I'd like to go back now." 

"I hope it will be a long time before I see you again, Lawhiney." Saint Peter's voice faded to a whisper.  


	7. Rocking the Boat

**_Disclaimer_**

_In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone…  except a certain kind of lawyer._

**Chapter Seven**

**Rocking the Boat**

41

The collar around Gadget's neck was made from a ring that a human would wear on one finger. A chain made for a human necklace, complete with a Saint Christopher on the end, had been fixed to the ring. The chain connected Gadget to the thief in front of her and the gangster's moll behind her. Keeping the chain slack, both in front and behind, was occupying a large portion of her concentration. She suspected that the dozen other girls in the line- a coffle was the technical term for it, Gadget remembered –were being kept too busy to think of anything else.

There were a dozen things she could have done to keep her neck out of that collar. It was like a slap in the face every time she thought of another one.

Franklin's sister had demanded her dress back, leaving Gadget in the red mini dress she had borrowed from Jen. The revealing and daring outfit of the day before now left Gadget feeling exposed and embarrassed. Looking back, she realised that wearing a different dress and trying to change her hair back to its normal colour had been a mistake. 

She could have testified in her own defence before Franklin put anyone else on the stand. Everyone would have understood if she had just told the whole story in her own words. She probably could have explained everything in less than ten seconds.

Gadget had worked out how long it took for someone's attention to wonder when something complicated was being explained by going over the basic technical specifications of her inventions with her friends and timing how long it took for their eyes to glaze. Since then she had made a point of compressing all the necessary information needed to understand any given topic into very long sentences, which she delivered as quickly as possible to stay under a ten second limit. 

Okay, so in this case she might have had to go over ten seconds. Twelve, maybe fifteen seconds at the outside. But they would have understood her. There wasn't a shred of doubt in Gadget's mind that people understood her. Always. So long as they had the time and inclination to think about what she told them.  

If she had worn the red dress Jen had loaned her, her friend would have recognized her or at least asked for permission to take a closer look. Gadget was sure of it. 

She should have told Franklin to give her something to write with the second she first laid eyes on him. If she had sent a letter to the hospital where her double was being treated, her friends would have recognized her handwriting in an instant. They might have been suspicious but they would have come to the trial, at least.  

Gadget realised that she was making a list again. Counting to see if there really were a dozen things she could have done to avoid this situation, or if she could think of a few more. If there were fewer than twelve, then that would mean her morale was low and she was being pessimistic. She would have to compensate. Of course, the act of counting the number of things that she could have done to avoid this might lower her moral in itself. If there were more than twelve that meant that she had misjudged both the original situation and her assessment of it. That would be an indication that she still wasn't thinking clearly. 

How long could one drugged French coffee affect her, anyway?

A part of her mind that had been sitting by and observing her train of thought stepped in and pointed out that this was not a productive use of her time. She should be looking for a way out of this situation. The trouble, Gadget mused, was that the court's verdict and sentence while wrong was legal and binding. As a Rescue Ranger she was supposed to uphold law and order. Not that she remembered ever taking an oath, or signing a contract, but that wasn't the point. Escaping from legal custody would definitely be undermining a system she was supposed to uphold and possibly hypocritical as well. 

The only right thing to do was to prove the system worked. Like it would have the first time if she had taken the possibility of being found guilty a little more seriously. She would clear her name using due process. At least one of the options she had considered was still workable: Franklin might be out of the picture – Oooh, she would have something to say to him when she saw him again! – but prisoners were allowed to write home, she knew that. Once a week, at least. She hoped it was at the beginning of the week. 

In the sewers deep under the human streets the chain of girls was led onto a balsawood barge. The barge would take them to Shrankshaw Prison, which was built in the foundations of Swing-Swing Penitentiary, one of the toughest and most infamous human prisons ever built. It was already late at night in the world above. Here, where the night lasted forever, activity never stopped.

There were small boats and skiffs made from human trash that passed along side them. Each boat had normal people in it. Gadget remembered those. Rats and mice who were just going about their normal business. She looked at them in wonder. It seemed like they were the first people she had seen who weren't crazy or full of hate since she had left Jen's the day before. 

A couple on the walkway that ran along the edge of the sewer met her gaze and pointed at her. It was a sudden moment of revelation for Gadget. She could imagine herself through their eyes. Tired and miserable, her hair a tangled mess from the hysterics she had had when they finally took out the gag, dressed for a party she would never arrive at. She looked pitiable. She looked guilty. 

Replaying the trial in her mind, it slowly dawned on her that it was only natural the jury had convicted. She realised for the first time that her every word and deed had been based on the knowledge that she was innocent and the assumption that she would be taken at face value, just has she always had been before and as she had always taken others at face value. It wasn't so different from a criminal who had always gotten away with it assuming that they would get away with it this time. 

Somewhere out there was a criminal whose guilt had kept her safe and free while Gadget's innocence had put her in chains. This was the world turned upside down. This was through the looking glass. She was in uncharted territory, morally and emotionally. 

The girl in front bowed her head and started sobbing. Gadget was yanked forward unexpectedly and almost stumbled.

"Hey! No day dreaming back there!" A guard bawled. "Anyone goes over the side, most likely everyone of you will join them." 

I'm going to jail, Gadget thought, and I've decided to accept it instead of escaping. I must be insane. She tried to console herself that it wouldn't be for long. If they did have to wait until the end of the week before writing home, then maybe she could persuade someone to make an exception. Yes, that was it. She could ask to see the governor and beg to be allowed to write a letter immediately instead of at the end of the week. She didn't like begging for anything but in this case she was more than ready to beg like a human's pet and like it. 

The girl in front was pulling her further and further forward. Golly, she's in an even worse state than I am, Gadget thought. The floozy behind yanked on the chain, hurting Gadget's throat. 

"Hey!" She snapped.

"You got a problem, red?" snarled the voice behind her. 

"Who are you calling red?" Gadget snapped.

"Be quite back there, or I'll make trouble for you!" Shouted a guard.

Anxious to avoid anything worse than she was already facing, Gadget raised a hand to the back of the female mouse in front of her. "There, there." She whispered. "I know how you feel. It's going to be all right. It's not forever." 

"It's for fifteen years! Isn't that enough?"

Gadget blinked. Fifteen years. That was the same sentence she had received. "What for?" She asked.

"What do you care?"

"I got the same sentence!"

"I said; be quiet back there!" 

"Robbery. Grand Theft. What about you?" 

"Nine counts of fraud, twelve counts of deception, twenty one counts of misrepresentation, eighteen counts of theft, assault, affray, causing a public nuisance and property damage." Gadget hesitated. Then, very, very reluctantly, she added: "And, um, uh, well, one count of lewd conduct in a public place." 

The mouse who had been crying looked over her shoulder questioningly.

"But I am so not guilty! This whole thing is just one big misunderstanding." Gadget wondered why she had avoided the word "innocent" as she hastened to reassure the tearful inmate.

"All those charges, one misunderstanding?" 

"Yes." Gadget nodded happily, not seeing the contradiction and believing she had found someone who understood at last. 

The mouse turned back to face forward. "What's your name?" she asked after a while.

"Gadget Hackwrench."

The mouse turned back to look at her in disbelief. "What?"

"Gadget Hackwrench."

"Great. Even on this bus I wind up next to the crazy one."

"How about you?"

"Bubbles McGee." 

"Seriously? Your name is Bubbles?"

Bubbles turned and stared at Gadget, her mouth open in indignation. She was a short mouse with black hair that curled tightly. Her fur was a grey brown that humans referred to as mousy. Her dress was a knee-length and a sensible blue but a pair of large and shiny earrings hung from her pierced ears. 

"You tell me your name is Gadget Hackwrench and then you doubt me when I tell you my name?" She challenged. 

"Sorry. It's just I knew someone called Bubbles once. Come to think of it, I used that name myself, once."

"Yeah? Well, if I catch you using my name I won't be as nice about it as the real Gadget Hackwrench." 

"I am the real Gadget Hackwrench." Gadget corrected her. 

"Yeah, right." Sneered Bubbles. "I can just see her getting fifteen years. The Judge would probably let her off with a warning if she knocked over a bank." 

"Surely you don't believe I'd get special treatment just because I'm a Rescue Ranger? Why everyone knows that the courts are totally impartial." The clanking of her chains reminded Gadget of her recent experience. "Usually." 

"Are you two deaf or stupid? I told you three times now, SHUT UP!" the guard had walked right up next to them and yelled as loud as she could. 

"####! You didn't have to yell." Bubbles cursed. 

The guard ground her teeth, turned on her heel and stomped to the back of the boat. "We stop and rewind the motor right up there. Under gusher seven." 

"But the clockwork hasn't wound all the way down yet." The boat driver objected. "Besides…" 

"I know. Just do it."

The boat purred to a halt under a pipe that allowed a trickle of discoloured water to dribble onto the floor next to the prisoners. 

"Yuck." Gadget observed.

"Aw, no. You pair of dumb ####s!" Snarled the moll behind Gadget. "I swear; first chance I get you two are going to pay for this." 

Gadget opened her mouth to ask just what the person behind her was talking about. It was the worst timing anyone could have imagined. 

A deluge of filthy, stinking sewage water washed over the barge and it's helpless prisoners, who were battered down onto all fours by the weight of the water. Balsawood, fortunately, floats even when it is a solid block. The high sides of the barge were meant to shield against waves and the deck beneath the prisoner's feet covered a hold packed with supplies for the prison. The flood washed off the deck easily enough, leaving a sickly brown residue behind. 

Gadget choked, coughed and spluttered. A moment ago she had been absolutely sure that things couldn't get any worse. I'll never think that again, she told herself, because now I know they always can. 

Very slowly the guard walked back to them, entirely untouched by the wastewater. "When I tell you to be quiet, you be quiet. And that goes for everything else I tell you to do and everyone else here, too. Got it? Good." 

The guard resumed her position next to her colleague at the front of the boat. 

Gadget looked at Bubbles in stunned disbelief. It hadn't occurred to her that their dousing had been deliberate, or avoidable. She opened her mouth to say something but Bubbles, looking over Gadget's shoulder, shook her head very slightly. Gadget turned her head. The seven convicts chained behind Gadget were glaring at her, their eyes burning with a cold fury that sent a chill from the tip of her tail to the back of her neck. 

42

The sad little convoy of prisoners arrived at their destination well into late evening. It was always dark in the sewers but the gloom around the entrance to the prison seemed thicker and more oppressive than it had anywhere else. It had been a long day and every one of the prisoners, including Gadget, moved slowly; with their heads bowed and their shoulders slumped. 

The gate to Shrankshaw Prison was made out of an old iron furnace door. It was blackened with a human lifetime's worth of soot and heat and there were wide vertical slits so air could feed a fire. The guards had covered the slits with a wire mesh to stop anyone escaping but the light from the prison yard still shone through and made it look as though a furnace were still on the other side. 

In the grime, some comedian had used their finger to write: "Abandon Hope, ye who enter here." 

The prisoners were led up the slimy, dirty steps that no guard would lower themselves to clean and no prisoner would be allowed to reach for fear of an escape. 

Four heavy looking Guards were waiting for them. They cast long shadows in the street lamp orange light from the prison yard.  "Welcome to Shrankshaw Prison." said the tallest guard, an immaculate white rat in a peaked-cap. "We have a saying around here. Today is the first day of the rest of your prison sentence." 

Only the guards laughed. 

"I see some of you made yourselves unpopular on the trip here; unpopular with us and unpopular with some of you. No doubt they will quickly learn the importance of being popular."

This time there was some low, evil chuckling amongst the prisoners as well. 

"To be popular with us, you must make our lives easy. You make our lives easy when you are quiet, obedient and stick to the rules. You make our lives harder and yourselves unpopular when you act the way free people are allowed to behave, when you talk or act without being told, or do or say something different from what you have been told. And believe me, unpopular with the guards means unpopular with everyone." 

The rat surveyed them all with an eye that was tarnished by experience. 

"On the outside, everyone is different. On the inside, everyone is the same. That is because on the inside different is the same as difficult. And if you are difficult, then you will become very, very unpopular in a very, very short space of time." 

The guard walked up to Bubbles and looked down at her with an icy smile. "Think about that." The white rat whispered.

Gadget glanced nervously between Bubbles and the Guard. She didn't know why the rat had singled out Bubbles instead of her, but she was grateful for it. It seemed like the first lucky break Gadget had been given in a long time. At the same time, her conscience pricked her. She had been the one to start the conversation on the boat. The trouble had been her fault. Should she say something? 

Gadget risked another look at the Guard's face. She had the look of someone who had seen captivity herself. Her eyes were red, marking her as an albino, which was usually a sign of someone who had either been born into captivity or descended from someone who was. There was a portion of her right ear missing, where she might have had someone remove a laboratory tattoo the hard way. 

Gadget knew that such people often met prejudice from other, so called, civilised rodents. They faced many challenges adapting to freedom; often they had no friends or family to help them; they knew nothing of the laws, rules and conventions of the society the had managed to find their way to; All too often they possessed nothing but their own fur. If this guard had escaped from human captivity herself, then she had done well for herself. 

"My name is Officer Haggs. Are there any questions?" the white rat asked.

"Did you escape from human captivity?" Gadget immediately inquired. 

Bubbles gasped. 

Gadget heard the sound, followed by a nasty silence all around her, and realised she had spoken without thinking things through. In a friendlier, or quieter environment, there would have been no real harm in the question. But this wasn't tea and biscuits with a new friend. 

The guard walked up to her. 

Gadget cursed inwardly and tried to think of an adequate apology. "I'm sorry. That was an entirely inappropriate question. I happen to be outstandingly smart but I'm afraid that sometimes I tend to act on an impulse without using more than one train of thought to consider the consequences from all the relevant angles." 

The guard blinked once. "That's quite alright. After all, if we don't ask questions we'll never get answers." 

Gadget beamed. Finally she had found a sensible, rational person.

Then she found herself on the floor. 

"You loose ten days privileges. I trust that answers your question." Officer Haggs said.

Gadget put her hand to her nose. It came away sticky.

"I landed on my tail." Complained Bubbles. 

Gadget looked dazedly to her left and realised that the collar and chain around her neck had dragged the girls on either side of her to the ground.

"Me too." Came from her right. 

Gadget turned her head and found herself nose to nose with the moll, who was glaring like a snake about to strike. 

"Aright, on your feet. Let's get this sorry little parade home." Officer Hags was already striding away.

The prisoners were marched into a box like cavern in the foundations of the human prison above. A sodium neon tube from a human street lamp shone down from the ceiling. They came to a halt directly under it. Two guards were holding aiming a hose at the prisoners like a machine gun. 

From behind them came the solid, final clang of the main gate closing. That was it. They were prison inmates. The gate was closed and with it so many possibilities were also closed to them. Gadget found herself craving Chinese food for the first time in months. She realised it had been years since she walked on moss just for the pleasure of it tickling her feet. If it was like that for her, what was it like for the other girls, who had no reason to think this was just for a day or two? 

"Normally we do this somewhere a little more private but, right now, you're too dirty to get in anywhere, even to a place like this! Strip off what you're wearing and step in front of the hose so we can wash some of the" - Officer Haggs checked herself - "grime off you."

There were muted protests but after the example Haggs had set with Gadget no one was willing to refuse. 

Gadget felt the fur on her back rising in anger and embarrassment. Everyone else was doing the same thing, she reminded herself. She was a Rescue Ranger. She had done harder things than get undressed. 

One by one the prisoners stepped through the spray of clean water, wearing only the fur coat God had given them. After the hose down they were led through the safe door and into a passage that was lit by a string of Christmas tree lights. It wasn't far to the room where new inmates were issued with their uniforms. Gadget's heart leaped with relief when she was handed a pair of blue overalls almost exactly like the ones she wore all the time. It was only when she unfolded them that she noticed the large black arrows printed across the front, back and sides. 

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" one of the guards demanded.

"Uh, putting my clothes on?"

"The prison clothes, not yours. You don't own anything anymore. And you wait until you're told. You've got the search and a trip to the showers first, girly." 

Gadget's spirits sank again. "Search?"

"It's okay." Whispered Bubbles. "It's not like some of the stories you might have heard. They only look on the outside, these days. Unless they have a reason to go further."

Gadget's face was a picture of alarm, shock and embarrassment as she stared at her friend. Bubbles had raised a possibility that hadn't even occurred to her. Gadget gave a shudder and offered a silent prayer of thanks for prison reform. 

The search was thorough, nonetheless. A guard ran a comb through the hair of each prisoner, looking for contraband. Three hairclips were confiscated, along with a lock pick that one of the convicts had hidden in her hair.

The lock pick gave Gadget a start. She kept a lock pick tied to the tip of her tail, camouflaged with shed fur. It had allowed her to escape from a bad guy at least once before and had been useful in her Ranger work. As she was a Rescue Ranger, no one would have thought it in the slightest bit questionable for her to have such an item hidden on her. As a new convict, however, she knew it would be harder to explain away. 

Her fingers strayed to the bruise on her still smarting nose. Should she say something or not? 

Out came the moral algebra again. Was it right to say nothing? She would get into trouble if she did and by now she had a clear idea of what that meant. They might take it easy on her, if she was honest and spoke up before they found it on their own. On the other hand- Gadget swallowed and watched the girl struggle as a couple of guards dragged her into another room –what was it Bubbles had said about the guards going further if they had a reason to?

"It's a criminal offence to smuggle contraband into a prison. That lady gets another two years on her sentence. Last chance for anyone else to 'fess up!" Bawled Officer Haggs. 

Two years! Maybe, just maybe, the two years wouldn't count if later on she proved she should never have been in here. But, the logical side of her replied, she would still have broken the law so where was the sense in that? 

She was a Rescue Ranger. She believed in law in order, even if they didn't believe in her right now. She had no intention of using the lock pick to escape. Her bid for freedom after the judge had pronounced sentence in the courtroom had been panic. There was no reason to keep the lock pick. 

Stepping forward was still one of the hardest things she had ever done. Officer Haggs came up to her and gazed at her steadily. Gadget reached back and took hold of her own tail, drawing it round in front of her. Practically everyone in the room watched her unwrap the fur-coated tape she used to hold the lock pick in place and camouflage it. 

Haggs took the steel tool in one hand and examined it. Gadget wished she had her name engraved on the pick, or maybe the name of the Rescue Rangers, but it always seemed unlikely that she would loose something that was attached to her own body, or at least that she would loose it in circumstances where finding a lock pick would be a priority. 

"Very good quality." 

"May I get back in line now? I haven't got anything else on me. Really I haven't. If I had, I wouldn't have drawn attention to myself by giving you that, would I?" 

"You'd be surprised at some of the dodges I've seen down the years. We really ought to make sure…"

"Please, I swear I haven't got anything else. It's the truth. What's the point in anyone coming forward if they get treated as if they hadn't?" 

"She's got a point, you know." Said a very reasonable sounding voice behind Officer Haggs. It came from a chipmunk lady wearing a guard's uniform. 

"Deputy Warden. I didn't know you were joining us. Just sight seeing, are we?" 

The Deputy Warden looked flustered. "What are you implying? I just came to see that standards were being maintained, that's all."

"Of course. My apologies. I was just going to refer this prisoner for a medical search."

"Well, I don't think that's necessary." Snapped the Deputy Warden. "As she said, she would hardly have come forward if she had anything else to hide." 

A thunderous look crossed Officer Haggs' face, but it was gone before the Deputy noticed it. "As you say, ma'am." 

The Deputy Warden nodded, made a tick on her clipboard and left them to their job. As soon as the door closed behind her, Officer Haggs put her face up close to Gadget's and snarled. "Twenty days without privileges."

"What? But-"

"Thirty days! Want to make it forty?"

"That's totally unfair!" 

"Forty days!"

"You're just punishing me because you're mad at your boss!" 

"Fifty days! Want to try for sixty?"

"Red? Come on, Red, don't push it." Bubbles was tugging urgently at Gadget's arm. 

It won't matter, Gadget thought to herself. I'm going to be gone by tomorrow and you'll be left feeling silly. But what, a tiny voice at the back of her mind asked, if things don't work out the way they should and I have to stay here a little longer than tomorrow? Do I really want to make things worse than they have to be? 

"Well, what's it going to be, girly? Do you want to shoot for another ten days?"

Gadget bit her lip and looked at her feet. 

"No? Then get back into line." 

43

"You were lucky." Whispered Bubbles.

"Don't I know it!" Gadget whispered back as they were led to their cells. "Do you think that they'll put us in together?" 

"What makes you think that I want to be locked up with you?"

"Well, none of the other girls seem to like us much since what happened on the boat."

"You got that right. That Roxy is going to be real trouble." 

"Roxy? Is that her name?"

"Yeah, her case was right before mine. I had to sit through it. She's a girlfriend of some mobster who left her holding a bag packed with stolen property when his place was raided. She swore blind she didn't know what was in it, but she's done time before. The judge was pretty tough on her. Gave her seven years." 

"How come you got fifteen years?"

"Some friends and I got seventy palmtop computers out of a warehouse by pushing them through a drainage pipe on a roller-skate. They're worth an absolute fortune in the right places. Every part of human society is accessible through the net, even if you're a mouse. You can earn human money, buy food instead of scavenging it, even interact with humans on their own level by pretending you're one of them." 

"All of which puts animal society in great danger of discovery." Gadget put in disapprovingly. 

"That's just an excuse for the authorities to stop everyone from doing it."

"If everyone did it, humans would be bound to catch on."

"Hey, pardon me for wanting to make a better life accessible to more people." 

"Was that why you did it?"

"Heck no, I wanted the money."

There was a brief silence. "I was going to send my kids to college, okay?" Bubbles added. 

"No, but it's easier to forgive." 

"The judge didn't think so. He said I was putting all of animal society at risk of discovery and that he was going to make an example of me. Plus, I was the only one that got caught and I wouldn't name any of the others." 

"I can see how that wouldn't help."

"So, fifteen years."

"Fifteen years." Gadget agreed. She felt perversely guilty that, for her, it would hopefully be a single night. She found herself liking Bubbles, a self confessed thief who could have caused the end of civilization as they knew it. Fifteen years was perfectly fair in the circumstances, but for the first time justice left a bitter taste in Gadget's mouth. 

They didn't get to share a cell. 

Bubbles was shown into an unoccupied three bed cell. Gadget assumed that she was going to be given the second bed, but instead Officer Haggs closed the door and locked it with a peculiar smile on her face. "Oh no, not you, girly. You get to share with some old hands. They've heard about you already and they're dying to meet a celebrity." 

Gadget frowned. 

She was taken to a crowded cell the same size as the previous one, but three extra beds had been squeezed. If everyone in the cell had tried standing up at once, there wouldn't have been room to turn around. The five prisoners inside looked at Gadget curiously. 

"So this is the new bug, huh?" one of them remarked.

"How come I have to be in this cell when Bubbles got a cell to herself?" Gadget puzzled.

"Because I say so, girly." Officer Haggs told her. 

The cell door closed behind Gadget.

"Oh, and one last word of advice. Don't be telling the other prisoners that you're Gadget Hackwrench. It might not be wise." Haggs moved off, whistling happily. 

"But I am Gadget Hackwrench!" Gadget called after her. Haggs didn't respond, but the sound of warm bodies shifting came from all around the cell. Gadget didn't move but she felt the presence of hardened criminals standing all around her. Her eyes grew as large and round as pennies. "Oh dear." She whispered.

44

The following morning the deputy warden was inspecting the cell allocations with a guard named Simmons after complaints of over crowding. The guard held a club and a large set of keys. The Deputy Warden had a clipboard and a pencil. 

They stopped at Bubbles' cell where the sole occupant was lying curled up in bed, despite the fact that morning bell had sounded at six o'clock, twenty minutes before.

"Having a lie in, is she? Well, I suppose we can overlook it. It is her first day." The deputy warden said. 

If Bubbles heard, her only response was to curl into an even tighter ball. 

"One to a cell? We can hardly call that over crowding." Officer Simmons said.

"No, we can't!" the deputy warden laughed as they carried on. Several cells later she found herself frowning. "Next cell, number 43, we have… six prisoners? That can't be right."

"Officer Haggs had me move in an extra cot last night." 

"Really? Well, we'll see about that- EEEK!" 

One of the prisoners, the redhead who had turned in the lock pick the night before, was hanging limply from the bars at the top of the cell door.

She was swinging by her hair. 

"Quickly! Get the door open." The deputy warden told the guard with her. 

"I'm working on it." Simmons replied.

The prisoner was swinging slightly. At the sound of voices behind her, she started kicking her feet. 

"Oh, please get me down from here! They tied my hair to the doorframe over eight hours ago and I've been hanging here ever since!" she begged. 

"Her hair is jamming the door." Simmons told the deputy warden. 

"Get a pair of scissors!" The deputy warden ordered. 

The guard fled.

"Now, you five, I want to know who did this and I expect you to own up immediately!" 

"I think it was Mickey Mouse." 

"No," another prisoner put in, "it was Santa Claus- he came down the chimney and told her she had been a bad little Rescue Ranger." 

The joking continued until Simmons returned with a pair of scissors and began cutting. Gadget wailed as her body weight was concentrated on a progressively smaller and smaller area of her scalp. Finally with an unpleasant tearing sound, the last lock of hair came out at the roots. 

"Eeep!" Gadget sat very still, having landed on a very sensitive spot for what felt like the umpteenth time in three days. 

"Simmons, these cell allocations are completely unacceptable. No wonder there's bullying with so many people packed into such a small space. See to it that she's moved in to that cell with only one occupant immediately." 

Gadget listened with one ear. So she was going to share with Bubbles after all. The rest of her attention was on her hair and her hindquarters, which ached horribly. At least her legs had broken some of the fall this time. She tried to hold up a lock of hair for inspection. It was neck length. She could live with that. She hadn't cut her hair since the year before her father died. She tried another. Shoulder length and of course dark red. It looked like she had just had the most uneven haircut ever, outside of the punk rock fraternity. 

Gadget was grateful that she didn't have much to carry since she had just had the second worst night's sleep of her life (her worst was still the night after she lost her father) and she had to move it all in one go. Her arms and legs were shaking and she was so tired she could hardly keep her eyes open. Had it been forty-eight or thirty-six hours since she last tasted coffee? She couldn't work it out. If going without sleep had this effect on everyone, she would have to get Chip to crack down on Dale's all night movie sessions. No wonder Dale goofed up so often. 

Simmons opened the door to Bubbles' cell and ushered Gadget in. The sound of the door clanking shut behind her again made Gadget flinch. She would be released today, she told herself. Assuming she could stay awake long enough to talk to someone in authority and make sense when she did. Definitely. She would be having Monty's cheese omelette supreme for supper tonight. 

Gadget put comb and the soap and the nightwear that she hadn't had a chance to try on yet in the places provided. With some relief, she tried out the lavatory as well. It had been a VERY long night for her. 

Finally, she went over to Bubbles. 

"Rise and shine, sleepy head. You don't know how lucky you are to have a cell to yourself." 

Bubbles snarled at her. "Yeah, right!" 

"You're awake!"

Bubbles turned over and for the first time Gadget saw that Bubbles was clutching herself in pain. 

"Are you alright?"

"No, I'm not alright."

"What happened to you?"

"Haggs. Haggs happened to me."

"What?" Gadget dragged the word out with tiredness and disbelief. 

"She paid me a visit last night and knocked me around. She wants to know where those palmtops I told you about are hidden. I told her I didn't know; I don't know. I only know where to pick up my cut of the profits. That's for my kids." 

Gadget sat down on Bubble's bed. 

"I'm sorry." Gadget said.

"Yeah, me too. Maybe she'll back off with you around as a witness."

"That's right. I'll see to it that she never works as a guard again."

"How you going to do that?"

"I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but I really am Gadget Hackwrench." Gadget whispered conspiratorially.

"What? You're here undercover?" Bubbles stared at her.

"No. Someone's been impersonating me and somehow they got hurt in a robbery. The robbers must have mistaken her for the real me. I got arrested because everyone thinks that I'm in hospital and they were all so angry at the impostor they wouldn't listen to me when I tried to explain." Gadget looked nervously at her cellmate.

Bubbles peered at her from hooded eyes. Very slowly she reached out with one hand and stroked Gadget's hair. "You really are crazy, aren't you, Red?"

"What? No, I mean it!"

"What happened to your hair?" 

"The people in that cell they put me in decided I'd make a good wind chime. The guards had to cut me down."

Bubbles sat up. "Were you hanging all night?" 

"Yes." Gadget said tiredly. 

"I was awake all night too. Do you think they'll let us sleep?"

"No. Officer Simmons said that we had showers and breakfast in ten minutes." 

"Awwww." 

45

"Wakey, wakey." The voice was twisted with amusement. 

Gadget blinked and opened her eyes. She took a moment to remember where she was, remembered and wanted to cry. The laughter from the corridor forced her to pull herself together. She was, she suddenly realised, still sitting on Bubbles' bed. Bubbles was snoring gently and holding her hand. Prisoners were passing by dressed for the showers and smirking at them. 

Gadget shook Bubbles awake and stood up. She didn't know what was so funny. Even if no one knew that Bubbles hadn't slept last night, most of the cellblock had heard her shouting for help. It should be no surprise to anyone that she had fallen asleep. 

Grabbing the soap that she had been issued with, she joined the queue for the showers. Unlike the other inmates, who were still in their regulation nightgowns, Gadget had never had a chance to change out of her prison uniform. Bubbles fell into line behind her and they moved into the changing rooms. 

Gadget had only had three years of formal schooling in her whole life and only one school had a changing room for sports lessons. Her father had taken her all over the globe and she had learned to speak languages that some of her teachers couldn't identify. She knew things about foreign customs that geography teachers refused to believe, but couldn't answer questions on national products and population. Sitting down to undress in front of strangers for the second time in 24 hours, she realised that she had never seen so many people "in the fur" in her life. 

The showers turned out to be a set of steps leading down into a trough of green tinted water. Gadget stopped dead and stared at the back of the prisoner in front of her. Flea dip. They were being herded through flea dip. 

"Wait a minute. I don't have-" Gadget found herself being pushed into flea dip face first. She came up coughing and spluttering, rubbing desperately at her eyes. Finding her way by touch alone, which got some interesting results, she managed to find her way to the end of the trough. 

"Sorry, sorry." She spluttered. 

At the top of the steps and to the right there was a doorway that led through to the actual showers. The showers were so big that they had used four human bathroom tiles to cover the floor. Three sprinklers from a garden watering can were suspended overhead, spraying thick jets of water over the inmates as they either walked straight to the exit or lingered in an effort to scrub some of the prison grime off.  

Gadget's vision was badly blurred by the stinging flea dip, but her sense of smell was fine. She realised that in spite of the hosing she had taken the previous day, there was still a lingering smell of sewers on her fur. She stopped under the first available jet of water and began washing. 

"Hey, Red. We don't want to stick around."

"Huh? Why not? I want to get as much of this dye out of my hair as I can. Maybe they'll take me more seriously when my hair's back to its normal colour. And we both still smell like we live in a sewer."

"Are you blind, or stupid?"

"Someone pushed me into the dip. Think I've rinsed it all out, but my eyes are still blurry."

"That was me. Look, just come on, will you? I'll explain why in a moment."

Gadget felt Bubbles' hand on her shoulder. She was annoyed but she didn't argue. 

Ten minutes later they were in their prison uniforms. Gadget was running her prison issue comb through her hair, trying to get all the tangles out of it. She managed to catch a glimpse of her reflection in a cracked changing room mirror. 

Lord, she couldn't recognize herself. Why should anyone else? Her hair was matted, incredibly tangled and still coated with soap from her interrupted shower. The dye was still deep red. Her face was darker than it had been before and there was a vertical stripe running down her front where her fur should have all been one light tan tone. 

The biggest change was her face. Her nose looked bigger for some reason. Was it swollen from the punch she had taken the day before or was it just the change of hair colour playing tricks on her? She looked at her eyes. There were bags under them that aged her by ten years and they were red rimmed, as if she had been crying. She hadn't. She had refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing tears last night.

"Why did you push me into the flea dip?" Gadget asked abruptly.

"What? Oh, that. You're not a whiner, are you? I don't think I could stand sharing a cell with a whiner. Only you were going to say you don't have fleas." 

"So? That's no reason to-"

"If you sleep on the mattresses in this place your going to get them. Everyone here has them. You were holding up the queue and if there's one thing I know, it's that prison inmates don't like it when someone makes out that they deserve better treatment than any of them are getting."

"You could have said. You didn't have to-"

"If I hadn't done it, someone else would have. At least I didn't push you too hard. If you hadn't come up right away I would have helped you up. And nothing I could have said would have stopped you from finishing that sentence." 

Gadget finished breakfast. Bubbles was right, but there was something that stuck in her mind. "I thought this was your first night."

"Second time around for me. Plus, they held me in lock up for a while before trial. I'm going to miss the food there. The cops and the prisoners get meals from the same kitchen." 

"You were in prison before?"

"Yeah, what's it to you?"

"What for?"

Bubbles looked at Gadget as if she was weighing her up. "That's not considered a polite question in a place like this."

"Sorry."

"I wasn't much more than a kid; about seventeen. I met up with some guys after I left home. Humans went over my family's old place with that gas stuff they use and we couldn't go back for anything. I was going to make a fortune in the big city and support them all. One the guys was an old friend of my big brother. I always had a soft spot for him."

Seventeen. Gadget had been about that age when Monty and the boys had busted through her home defence system and convinced her to help them stop bad guys getting away with it. 

"Anyway, they used me as a scout to case places they wanted to rob. I didn't do anything but keep my ears and eyes open at first. Then I moved up to helping them get in, helping them get out. I was good at it. They started to take me seriously. Unfortunately, the judge took me seriously too. I was put into a place like this when I was nineteen."

"How long for?"

"First offence, that I'd been caught for, that is, and I was a good looking kid. Two years. I got married as soon as I got out and I was never going to look at another set of bars or another grey wall as long as I lived."

"What happened?"

"I got three cubs and my husband decided that he didn't like stretch marks or paying child support. My Ma's looking after them now. She's got her own problems." Bubbles looked at Gadget with a serious expression. "Never marry a career criminal, no matter how much you love him." 

"I'll try to avoid it." Gadget promised. 

"Did you really not see anything in the showers?" 

"Enough not to bump into anybody, why?"

"Never mind."

Officer Haggs put a large and heavy hand on Gadget's shoulder. "Prisoner D141, you've got a meeting with the warden."

"Really? Is it about letting me go?" 

"Letting you go? Why would we want to part with someone as, how shall I put it, fragrant and delightful as you?" Laughter echoed from all around. "Come along, girl. We don't want the warden to get bored rehearsing her "'Welcome to my prison'" speech." 

Gadget followed Officer Haggs to the warden's office. Her eyes were drooping as she put one foot in front of the other. What was the longest she had ever gone without sleep? Two, three days? She could handle this. She had slept for over six hours the night before last. Gadget yawned widely. 

"Someone keep you awake last night?" inquired Officer Haggs. 

"Yes! Those people you locked me in with tied my hair to the top of the door so that my feet couldn't touch the floor!"

"You should have done something to make them like you." 

"I don't think there's anything I could do to make them like me."

"You'll learn." Haggs voice had a nasty, smug tone that was completely lost on Gadget. 

"Could you tell me if we're allowed phone calls?"

"Not in this place. It's not like the newer prisons on the west side of the city. There's one for the warden to use in emergencies and don't get any ideas, it's for official use only."

"What about letters?"

"Twice a week. Censored by yours truly, so keep any love letters you write clean." 

Gadget blushed. "When do we get to write them?"

"You don't. You're on loss of privileges; remember? Fifty days, wasn't it?"

"What? But I have friends who don't know where I am!" 

"I haven't processed the forms yet. It could be sixty… my memory is always playing tricks on me."

"Oooohhhhh!" Gadget ground her teeth together. "You let me write one letter to my friends, or I'll complain to the warden!" 

"Oh, you will, will you? Well, you'll have your chance, in a minute! Just you wait here until you're called." And with that Officer Haggs left Gadget cooling her heals in the corridor outside the warden's office. 

Gadget had pinned all her hopes on getting out of here before sunset. One phone call, one letter- that was all it would take and she would be free. She was not going to stay here for fifty days. She wasn't going to wait for her friends to get their act together and find her. She was going to deal with this herself. 

Warden Phelps was a neat but plain mouse lady who wore a frilly shirt and a long string of glass beads with her sombre business suit. She was chatting and smiling with the Deputy Warden when Officer Haggs entered.

"Ah, there you are. Where's the next inmate, Haggs?"

"I instructed her to wait outside. I thought I might have a word. I'm not sure this girl is quite right in the head. One moment she seems determined to be a model prisoner and she's acting as innocent as apple pie and the next she's dishing out attitude and carrying lock picks. She seems determined to call herself Gadget Hackwrench, even though the other prisoners have already bullied her for it. If you ask me she needs to spend a while over in the special wing instead of locked up with a serious criminal like Bubbles McGee."

"I read about the case in the papers. The trial seemed to be over terribly quickly and her lawyer didn't seem to be much good." The warden replied.

"With the evidence against her, I don't see how it could have lasted very long." Her deputy put in.

"True, but from arraignment to sentencing in one day? I can hardly believe it."

"If she feels she didn't get a fair shake in court, it might explain why she feels as if she has an axe to grind." Officer Haggs said magnanimously. "I just wish she was more open about it. Oh, I suppose I'd better mention it before she does- I've given her thirty days loss of privileges for insolence." 

Haggs had always thought the Warden, and her Deputy, were both weak and wet but the few times she had challenged their authority they had slapped her down as though she were an inmate. The humiliation from previous rounds still stung enough for her to be cautious even over a thing as trivial as this. 

Reducing the length of the punishment she had given the new prisoner before they did would save Haggs from losing face with them and a private little chat with the inmate would make sure she didn't loose any face there, either. With any luck they'd take her word for it that the redhead was crazy and ship her off to the psycho-ward with all the other lunatics, leaving Bubbles McGee un-chaperoned for another interrogation session. 

"Thirty days is a little stiff. She hasn't even been here twenty four hours."

Haggs shrugged. "Start as you mean to go on, I always say."

"Very well. Send her in."

Gadget entered a moment later. She looked tired and frustrated but her eyes lit up when she saw the warden. 

"Good morning." The warden said.

Gadget's eyes widened. "Are you kidding?"

"You're wasting your time being courteous, Warden." Haggs put in. "The type of people we get in here never appreciate it." She added, with a disdainful look towards Gadget. 

"Oh, I do!" Gadget put in quickly. "It's just it's been a while since anyone spoke to me politely!"

"I understand." The warden nodded. "I was just going over your file. I see you're going to be with us quite some time."

"Not if I can help it!" The three others in the room stared at Gadget. "I mean; I want to leave legally, of course. I shouldn't be here."

"It's all a mistake." The warden nodded.

"A big misunderstanding." Gadget confirmed.

"You shouldn't be here." 

"That's exactly it!"

"Just like everyone else in here."

"Right! I mean, no! I'm not like anyone else in here! At least, I certainly hope I'm not."

"Young lady," the warden began severely, "you are exactly like everyone else here and that is precisely how you will be treated. You've already had a taste of how people who put on airs and graces are treated by the other prisoners and we can't be there all the time to protect you."

Gadget's face went slack with surprise and disappointment. The warden continued without pausing.

"Last night they were tired and you hadn't had time to really upset them, but if you continue to behave as though you are better than everyone else then you will find yourself in considerable danger. Do you understand?"

Gadget nodded, meekly.  

"Now, you've got off to a bad start in here. I'm going to give you a chance to make good and maybe reduce your time here. You gave the court and the Street Watch a false name and had an extra three years tacked onto your sentence because of it." 

Gadget opened her mouth but the Warden held up a hand, silencing her.

"Because of the judge's ruling you can't be considered for parole until you've served twelve years. If you tell me your real name right now, you can appeal against that part of the sentence and I'll put in a good word for you. It'll still be the judge's decision, of course but, if the judge agrees to drop the contempt of court sentence, you would be eligible for parole after just seven years. From the look of you, you would just barely be into your thirties. Young enough to raise a family." The Warden beamed at her.

"What?" Gadget blinked at her.

"Think about it carefully, my dear. Fifteen years would make you, what, forty when you're released? It's not so easy to find a mate at that age. Or have a child. Especially after being in a place like this." 

Gadget felt her heckles rise. "I'm not going to be here that long!" She insisted. "I am Gadget Hackwrench. I will prove it! If I could just speak to one of my friends for two seconds I'd be able to convince them! If she-" Gadget pointed to Officer Haggs "-hadn't taken away my privileges for sixty days just because your deputy overruled her in front of everyone, then I'd be able to write to them right now and they'd come and clear this whole mess up!" 

"Sixty days?" The warden smiled. "Try not to exaggerate." 

"I'm not! Ask her, if you don't believe me!" 

Officer Haggs was a perfect picture of concerned bewilderment. "I'm sorry, I have no idea why she thinks it's sixty days. Perhaps she misheard me." She lied.

"Sixty and thirty don't sound very similar." The deputy frowned. 

"Ah, I know. I mentioned the loss of privileges again on the way here. She must have thought I was giving her a second punishment." 

"Yes, of course. That explains it." The warden smiled. "You see, D141? It's only thirty days you've lost your privileges for. You can write to your friends, whoever they are, as soon as that time has passed." 

"I shouldn't have to spend thirty days in here when I'm innocent!" 

"A great many people come into this prison protesting their innocence. I have only ever seen it proved to be true in two cases. Most leave having served their sentence, sometimes still claiming to be innocent. If you truly believe you are not at fault then you should consider the fact that you may serve your sentence, regardless of the truth of the matter."

"The truth is that I AM GADGET HACKWRENCH!" Gadget yelled at the top of her voice. "There is an impostor in hospital that everyone thinks is me and as soon as she wakes up everyone is going to realise how wrong they are!"

"If you don't get control of yourself this instant, I will make it sixty days without privileges!" The Warden threatened. The three prison officials stared, sternly, at the rebellious prisoner.

Gadget rolled her eyes in frustration but realised that it would do her no good to antagonise the person who ran the whole prison. Taking two deep breaths, she steeled her will and forced herself to say through clenched teeth: "Of course. I'm very sorry for my display of temper, Warden Phelps. Please forgive me." 

The warden pursed her lips for a moment before replying. "Very well, I'll over look it this time. If you really feel that you have been treated harshly, I suggest you appeal the sentence in March."

"March? Why would I wait until then?"

The warden seemed puzzled. "I'm sorry, I understood that your lawyer was in hibernation?"

"Well, yes. But if I prove that I am who I say I am, surely-"

"No, I'm afraid that even if I believed your claim, there are rules to be obeyed and procedures to be followed. You would have to convince a court, which would then free you. And you would need a lawyer to represent you."

"I'm certainly not waiting until spring to get out of here! I'll have to hire a new lawyer and that's all there is to it."

The warden face became creased with sympathy. The poor girl didn't know! "I'm very sorry to tell you, but that's quite impossible." 

"Huh?"

"You may have heard of the Hibernation Protection Act? The act that prevents people who are hibernating from having their property and jobs taken away from them until they wake up?"

"Yeah, sure. Chip and the rest of us busted up a ring of thieves who specialised on robbing people while they slept once. People who are hibernating can't be prosecuted, or locked up, or foreclosed on, or fired…" Gadget's voice trailed off, as the implications of that last point sank in. "No." She whispered.

"I'm very sorry. You can't be represented by a new lawyer unless your old one is fired, or knows and gives his consent."

"You mean?"

"Even if Chip Maplewood walked through that door and cleared you right now, I wouldn't be able to let you go until he told a court you were Gadget Hackwrench and he couldn't do that until after you had a lawyer to represent you. Which means your lawyer has to wake up so he can represent you, give permission for someone else to represent you or be fired so you can hire a new one." 

Gadget stared at her in total horror and disbelief. "No." she said. "It's not possible. It's insane!" 

"It was something they overlooked when they drew up the law. The same thing applies to doctors, though the Medical Council has strict rules about arranging hibernation cover that makes sure no one goes without treatment. But the Bar Association says it prefers voluntary arrangements." Warden Phelps put a gentle hand on the prisoner's shoulder. The girl was clearly in shock. 

"You aren't the first to get caught in a trap like this." The warden continued. "It's been a pet hate of mine for some time. Absurdly, the trouble is that most lawyers have hibernation cover already, which the Bar Association says makes changing the rules unnecessary. It's just a careless few who don't and I'm afraid the newspapers that covered the case have reported that your lawyer is one of them."  

"Even when Chip clears me, I'll still be stuck here?" Gadget whispered.

"Well, in that instance I'd like to think that we could work something out, but I don't know what and it wouldn't be easy." The warden smiled gently. "You said "'when'" instead of "'if'"; you really do believe your claim, don't you?"

"Of course I do. It's the truth." 

The warden nodded and looked over to the deputy warden. "I think perhaps Doctor Schadenfreude had better have a look at her, don't you?"

"Definitely." The deputy agreed. 

"Sounds like a wonderful idea." Beamed Officer Haggs.

"Doctor who?" Asked Gadget. 

46

Half an hour later Gadget found herself staring at a padded wall as she sat on a rubber mat, her elbows rested on her knees and her chin supported in her hands. Doctor Schadenfreude was the resident psychologist, she had learned. He only worked three days a week and this wasn't one of them. She was to be kept here for observation over a period of twenty-eight days, which was standard procedure if the warden decided you were crazy, apparently. In the meantime she was still on loss of privileges but it mattered far less because apparently crazy people had even less rights and privileges than criminals. 

Her greatest worry was Bubbles. Gadget had said nothing in the warden's office about her friend being beaten by Officer Haggs, partly because she hadn't seen it with her own eyes and partly because she no longer expected to be believed about anything. If they thought she was lying about her name and about how long Haggs had said she would have no privileges, then they certainly wouldn't take her word for it that Haggs had beaten someone for information. 

Expecting someone not to believe her was not a new experience for Gadget, but it was an unfamiliar one. As a child, she had gone through the normal stage of telling fibs and getting caught, often by her father and once by Monty, followed by the usual assortment of consequences. Even then she had always known that she could tell them something important without being doubted. Now, for the first time, she had to take it for granted that every word she said would be considered a lie. 

Gadget sighed. It would take some getting used to. She had been forced, reluctantly, to accept that she would be behind bars for at least one more night. With luck Doctor Schadenfreude would turn out to be a competent and understanding professional or, failing that, at least someone who would let her contact her friends and she would be freed tomorrow. After all, this couldn't go on forever, could it? 

Deep inside her, a worm of doubt had begun to gnaw away at her confidence. She had thought she would get out today, hadn't she? She had thought that she would get out yesterday, at the trial. She had thought that Monty would come rolling into the Street Watch precinct with a stern look and a twitching smile hidden behind his moustache. She could just picture him making her squirm through an explanation of how she got herself into such a mess. 

Oh, it all made her so angry. She was a good person. She didn't deserve any of this. And what kind of friends took any second rate forgery for the real thing time after time? It was bad enough in Hawaii, where they at least had the excuse of not knowing a double of Gadget existed. Honestly, when she got out here the first thing she was going to do was see to it that they were sorry for putting her through this…

Gadget blinked. That wasn't like her at all. The first thing she wanted to do when she saw her friends again was hug them all really tight and tell them how much she had missed them. Lawhiney could be bandaged from head to foot for all she knew; there might be no way for them to tell who was lying in that hospital bed. And she, Gadget, had used questionable judgement both in Hawaii, when Lawhiney had fooled her along with everyone else, and here, when she failed to tell her friends where she was going and what her plans were. 

Truth be told, her conscience reminded her, her trial would probably have gone in her favour if she hadn't forced Franklin Kafka to rush headlong into the proceedings with less than an hour to prepare. 

Gadget slowly came to a realisation. "Lord," she whispered, "it's my fault I'm in here." 

Suddenly the weight of the last three days seemed to come crashing down on her and tears were flowing down her cheeks unstoppably. Gadget had been holding back a lot of tears. They kept falling, well into the night. 


	8. A Rude Awakening

_Disclaimer_

**_In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone…  except a certain kind of lawyer.  _**

Chapter Eight

The Rude Awakening

47

Lawhiney woke up. The first sensation was the overpowering scent of antiseptic. Her head hurt and there was something blocking her nose. After a moment she realised that lots of other places hurt. She remembered her dream and a panic swept over her. What if she was dead? What if she was waking up in hell? 

She began to struggle franticly, only to find herself pathetically weak, barely able to sit up. Her eyes finally opened to behold… three faces peering down at her with huge smiles. 

"Mffhuh?" she said.

"Just rest easy. You're in hospital but you're going to be alright." 

A green-faced fly hovered up and down, buzzing in agreement. 

"Humph!" Lawhiney mumbled. Memories fell into place. She looked at the faces again. 

Dale. Monty. Zipper. The fly's name was Zipper. Okay. They were Rescue Rangers. They were- oh shoot! They were probably here to arrest her. She remembered almost everything now. She had been at the pearly gates… no wait; that had just been a dream, surely? Suddenly she felt like she was tumbling out of control. The thought brought back the memory of the air crash and she began shaking uncontrollably. 

Someone was calling for a doctor. The other faces withdrew. The doctor came and began checking her over. She had time to think while he was taking her temperature. She was in hospital. She could feel everything so it probably wasn't permanent but everything felt so bad, she was sure she wasn't going anywhere in the immediate future. 

Testing the thermometer with her tongue, Lawhiney considered her options. Her near-death-experience, or dream as she was already thinking of it, had shown her many things. How many of them should she consider real? All of them? Some of them? None? 

The thinking was giving her a headache. If it had all been a very vivid dream then why had she had it? Dreaming about her son she could put down to her biological clock ticking. She was twenty-four, it was probably about time it started to make a nuisance of itself. Giving up a life of crime? It hasn't done me much good so far, she mused. I'm stuck in a hospital bed with prison to look forward to. 

Lawhiney knew that she had a great deal to think about. The question was whether she wanted to do that thinking behind bars. 

"How am I, Doc?" she croaked.

"Making good progress." Replied the chipmunk in the lab coat. "Your pupils are still a little sluggish. Might be the painkillers we're giving you. Do you remember how you got here?" 

"I remember crashing the ranger plane into the museum wall." She admitted, contritely. It so happened that a contrite Lawhiney sounded a lot like a sad Gadget with a rough throat. 

"Because the robbers were fighting with you for control of the plane?" 

"Robbers?" Lawhiney felt confused. There was something wrong with the way the question was phrased, but she was too bushed to work out what.

"You don't remember any robbers?" the doctor asked.

"Maybe it'll come back to me." Lawhiney stalled, trying to work out what was going on.

"What about the hijack?"

"Hijack?" Lawhiney began to look alarmed. She really didn't remember hijacking anything, ever. Not her. Honest.

"Do you remember taking off in the Ranger plane?"

"I remember taking the Ranger Plane." She admitted and looked anxiously from one person to another as she waited for them to slap on the cuffs. 

"What was the last meal you ate before you flew?" 

"Huh? I don't know. I can't remember." She honestly couldn't. 

"That settles it. She has selective amnesia!" The doctor pronounced. 

Lawhiney lay still and silent as she listened to a babble of alarmed questions and the doctor's efforts to answer them. The Rangers all talked over each other, which made it difficult to get any sense out the conversation, but one thing stood out loud and clear: They still thought she was Gadget. 

Lawhiney let out a long sigh. Let them fight it out, she thought in a muzzy fashion. No sense saying anything until she knew what she was dealing with. Not that she was planning on lying to anyone. She just didn't see the point in saying anything until she was asked. Yeah, that was the ticket. If anyone asked her flat out; are you a criminal or an impostor, then she'd confess everything, go to jail quietly and let them send her baby off to a life of crime and a violent death. 

Yeah, right. Like hell she would. Lawhiney had spent a large portion of her life pretending her faults didn't exist but she was through lying to herself, if no one else. She knew she was never going to be mother of the year; heck, she probably didn't have a chance of ever becoming a good mother but there was no way she was going to let any child of hers get taken away. 

The Rangers and the Doctor finally fell silent and in that instant of quiet Lawhiney made her decision. She knew what she was going to do. 

"Doctor, I'm sorry. I feel very tired. Could I have some privacy?" 

"Uh, certainly." The Doctor agreed. "Gentlemen, I'll answer all your questions outside, after I have a brief word with my patient."

"We'll talk to you soon, Gadget!" Dale promised. 

"You get some rest now, luv." Monty told her as Zipper held the door for him. 

As soon as Lawhiney and her Doctor were alone, the Doctor turned to her and asked: "Do you need a bed pan?" 

"Huh?" Lawhiney blinked in a slightly dazed way. "Uh, no. In fact…" Lawhiney reached under the sheets to check something. "…I think there's a tube taking care of things." 

"Um, yes." The Doctor said hastily. "Please leave it alone." 

"I wanted to ask you to go over my injuries and, this selective amnesia thing, what are the symptoms?" 

"You had internal bleeding, a fractured fibula, a broken tailbone about six vertebra from the base of your tail, three broken ribs and a dislocated shoulder. The most serious injury, once we fixed the internal bleeding, was the head injury. Your skull was fractured and you had a serious concussion that kept you unconscious for nearly three days." 

"Three days." Lawhiney breathed. She lay there for a moment, amazed that she had survived at all. Then a thought occurred to her. "Hey, doc. With a concussion, you'd expect someone to have a lot of weird dreams right?"

"Uh, no. The difference between unconscious and asleep is that you have no dreams at all." 

Lawhiney looked worried and sad. "Are you sure?" 

"That is what the text books say. But it's unusual for someone to wake abruptly. Usually there's a period where the patient moves through other levels of consciousness, before they wake up, and during those periods people can have very strange experiences." 

"Did I?"

"The rangers were with you every second and I think they would have informed us if you showed the slightest sign of awareness but they say you opened your eyes quite suddenly."

"Oh." After a pause she asked, "What do I need to know about selective amnesia, then?"

"It's usually related to psychological trauma or area specific brain damage. We haven't been able to check you for brain damage, but you've certainly had a trauma. If that's what brought it on then everything you've forgotten will have a common factor that will reveal why you've suppressed those memories and they should come to the surface in time. If it is brain damage then I'm afraid the memory is either just plain gone, or cut off by a damaged connection until the brain finds a path around the damaged circuits." 

The doctor looked at her to see how she was taking the news. The patient didn't seem particularly responsive. 

"How long before I can move under my own power?" she asked eventually. 

"At least two months." 

"Two months?" 

"If you're lucky and don't push yourself too hard before you're ready. Until then you're going to need a wheel chair." 

"Oh. Doctor-" Lawhiney hesitated "-could you tell me if I'm pregnant or not?"

"What!?" The doctor gasped. He was used to dealing with unwed mothers every day in his line of work, but he'd never supposed someone with Gadget Hackwrench's reputation- although come to think of it he had heard rumours. "Uh, well, we haven't run any tests. And after what you've been through I wouldn't like to speculate on the chances for any…" the Doctor trailed off. "Look we'll run some tests first thing in the morning, ok?"

"Thank you doctor. I'd like to sleep now."

"Of course. I'll see you tomorrow." The doctor made his way out, leaving the room in semi-darkness. 

Lawhiney did not sleep. She lay there and stared at the ceiling. She felt something she had never felt before. She couldn't put a name to it, but she didn't like it and she had an uncomfortable suspicion that it wasn't going to go away. After nearly and hour of listening to the normal sounds of a running hospital coming from the other side of the cardboard walls Lawhiney felt someone very quietly enter the room without turning the light on. One of the rangers sneaking back in, she supposed. 

"I'm trying to sleep, here." She said.

No answer.

"Hello?" she said. 

"I hope you're proud of yourself." Replied a voice she had never expected to hear again. 

Lawhiney's eyes went wide. She struggled into a half sitting position to get a better view of the intruder. 

"You!" she gasped.

"Yes, me. Were you expecting Michael Landon?" enquired her guide. 

"I'm still dreaming." 

"You were never dreaming. Not in the sense that the living know."

"I'm going to wake up." Lawhiney said, pulling the bed sheets over her head.

"You'll wake up in the morgue if you lay there with the sheets over your head like that." Her guide told her, a trace of amusement in his voice.

"Go away!"

"You asked for a guide to counsel you when you lost your way, remember? Well, you woke up and the first thing you did was go off the rails again, so here I am."

"I think I liked you better when you didn't talk so much!" 

"I don't think I like you at all!" her guide responded. 

Lawhiney flipped a corner of bed sheet back so that she could peep out with one eye. He was still there.

"Whadya mean, you don't like me?"

"Well, what do you expect me to say? I get sent to help you out, stop you from making a hash of a second chance most people never get, and all you want to do is hide under the bed sheets like it's already too late! Do you want me to find a pair of scissors so you can cut eye holes in that thing and get some practice in?"

"Very funny!" Lawhiney sneered. "Anyhow, who says I've gone off the rails? I've only been awake ten minutes!" 

Her guide put his hands on his hips and glared at her from under his hooded robes. "In the first place, I have it on VERY good authority that you HAVE gone off the rails! In the second place, you only took three minutes to do it; which, I might add, is an all time record if you don't count humans."

Lawhiney looked at him, carefully. Eventually she said, "Oh, come on. I'm not that bad!"

"Wanna bet?"

"Am not!" she protested.

"Think about it! You have the Rangers convinced that you're Gadget and you're planning to run off at the first opportunity and leave the real Gadget to rot in jail in your place!" Her guide insisted. 

Lawhiney thought about it. "Actually, I hadn't considered anything beyond recovering enough to get out of the country but I've never really liked her…" She trailed off, aware that her guide's eyes were glowing brighter. 

"Just maybe I should talk to my boss and recommend that we put a stop to this whole charade, before you do more damage to the world with your second chance than you did with the first one!" The hooded spectre hissed menacingly. 

Lawhiney stared into her guide's face, her eyes smarting from the intensity of his. She could feel the fur stand up all along her spine and her insides felt like ice but she was not going to be bullied. 

"Do that." She said and marvelled at how calm her voice was. "If I die in hospital as Gadget Hackwrench then the real thing will have an even harder time convincing anyone who she is, especially with the other Rangers in mourning." 

The guide stared at her, open mouthed. Then he blinked twice and raised his eyes to the ceiling as if asking for conformation of what she had just said. He must have received it, because his expression went through a series of rapid changes: He gaped in disbelief, frowned in despair and, finally, glared in anger.  

"Now look here," he began. Lawhiney did; she looked right back at him with a face of stone. The guide gave her a stern look but she didn't bat an eyelash. Finally he clenched his fists and teeth and directed a moan of frustration at the ceiling. 

"If you're done now, I'd like to get some sleep." Lawhiney said, smugly. 

"Ha! Yes, that's right! Go on, sleep! I hope you have nightmares." Her guide told her, turning his back. A thought stopped him. "Hey, maybe that's it!" 

"What's it?" Lawhiney sounded worried. "You're not going to give me nightmares, are you?"

"Why? Does that bother you?"

"Not a bit!" Lawhiney returned, bravely. 

"Pity, it isn't a bad idea! But I had something else in mind. You were trying to sleep when I came in, weren't you? Only you couldn't."

"They forgot to give me a painkiller." Lawhiney complained. 

"There's painkiller in the drip feed. What bit of you hurts, Lawhiney? It wouldn't be your conscience, by any chance?"

"What? I haven't got anything to feel guilty about! I'm protecting my child, that's all!" Lawhiney meant it as an excuse but she put one arm over her belly protectively as she spoke, without even noticing she was doing it. 

"Oh, so that's it, is it?" The guide's face softened. "Lawhiney, what do you mean, protecting your child?"

"You know what I mean. If I have this baby in prison then you know what will happen to him." 

Her guide actually smiled for a moment. "Lawhiney, you were shown what would happen to him if you don't mend your wicked ways. What you're doing right now doesn't count as mending anything." He warned her.

"It's just until I'm safe. Until I can be sure he'll be raised properly."

"I don't believe you. You might mean it right now, but you won't when the time comes." 

"What do you want me to do? I can't leave now. I'm helpless!"

"You have to tell the truth. An innocent person is suffering because you have not told it already." 

Lawhiney pointed to her own belly. "Another innocent person will suffer for a whole life time if I do tell it! As soon as I can slip away to safety I'll write a note confessing everything. I'll raise him far away from all of this and never come back, I swear it!"

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions."

"How much of a chance does my child stand, without a mother's love!?"

"A heck of a lot more than if she's lying and cheating people in front of him every day!"

"If Gadget Hackwrench is such a good person, wouldn't she agree to this for the sake of a child?" 

The guide hung his head, the darkness of the room and the shadows of his hood making his face invisible. "Very well." He finally said. "But it still isn't right. It's just until you get out of here. Then you have to find a way to get to a place where your child can be born and leave a note behind explaining everything." 

"Thank you." 

"Oh, no. Don't thank me." Her guide waved a hand dismissively. "All I've done is botch the job I was sent to do for you. This sin is all your own work." 

48

Gadget had naively thought that she would be the first person the psychiatrist saw when he came in on Wednesday. She wasn't. Doctor Schadenfreude had twenty-three established patients to visit first. She would see him at three o'clock. Since he arrived at ten o'clock that meant he would spend an average of eleven minutes, forty-three seconds per patient. It seemed like an odd amount of time but she was allowing for a thirty-minute lunch the Doctor might not take. Presumably, Gadget mused, the one minute forty-three seconds was how long it took the orderlies to wheel in the next patient and take out the old one. That would give him ten minutes with each patient. 

Ten minutes. 

Gadget hoped he was easy to convince. She went over what she planned to say to him again. She would have to talk faster than usual if the Doctor was going to have any time left to say something himself. 

Gadget drummed her fingers on the balsa wood table and stared at the bars of the cage she was in. The cage had been cobbled together from the sides of pet cages discarded by humans, but they had been cut up and welded together to fit into the room it was located in. She had been waiting in the cage for twenty minutes, not because the Doctor was late but because twenty minutes ago had been the most convenient time for the orderlies to put her in there. The most convenient time for them, that is, not for her. 

The door opened and a very tall, thin bat entered. He was wearing a white "coat" that had slits from shoulder to hem instead of sleeves to allow him to move his wings freely. He wore a large pair of glasses that were manufactured from a pair of human contact lenses and carried a huge brief case. 

"Ah, mine new patient! I am Doctor Schadenfreude. I will be making you well. Or possibly just keeping you in the rubber room." The bat spoke with a distinct German accent. 

Gadget was about to answer him when he stepped up onto the chair on the other side of the table, hoisted the bulky briefcase up with him and threw it down on the table. Gadget just barely had time to snatch her hands away from underneath it. Blinking at him in confusion, Gadget watched as Doctor Schadenfreude stepped up onto the table and placed one foot on the briefcase as though he were climbing a stepladder. 

"Uh, excuse me?" Gadget put in. 

"No, no. Excuse me." The doctor replied. And with that he spread his wings as wide as the tiny room would allow and attempted a backward somersault. 

Gadget's hands flew to her mouth in horror. For a split second she imagined the doctor lying on the floor with his skull split open and everyone blaming her. 

Instead the bat turned himself upside-down and stayed that way, suspended in mid-air. His feet had locked on to the bars of the cage roof and he was hanging, quite safely and comfortably, with his back to Gadget. Methodically, he repositioned his feet so that he could face her.   

Gadget found herself nose to forehead with Doctor Schadenfreude, looking him right in the nostrils. 

"Uh, do you always treat your patients in this position, Doctor?"

"Oh, yah. Most psychiatrists believe that they will make progress if the patient is relaxed but I find that in here that is almost impossible, so the next best thing is if I am relaxed." 

"Right, uh, well, you see the thing is Doctor Schadenfreude, I'm Gadget Hackwrench."

"So the orderlies tell me." 

"And everyone else thinks I'm an impostor. But I'm not." Gadget stopped and gulped. 

Doctor Schadenfreude was yawning. His teeth were an impressive sight. 

"Um, pardon me," Gadget said, "but are you a vampire bat?"

"What? Oh, excuse me. Already a long day and I think I'm getting a little too relaxed." He chuckled. "Yes, my grandparents and my father were vampire bats."

"But you speak with a German accent. I thought all vampire bats came from South America?"

"It is our place of origin, yes, but my parents were exported to Europe to help in the making of a horror movie." The doctor explained. "Now, you were telling me about your delusions?" 

"No, I was telling you that I'm Gadget Hackwrench." 

"Oh, of course. Do go on."

"It all started when I overheard a conversation between two of the best friends I've ever had while I was on the ceiling."

The psychiatrist blinked but didn't interrupt.

"They were saying how they thought that an evil person was impersonating me and they didn't want to tell me because they knew I might be upset about the things people were saying about me. So I thought that I would change my appearance so no one could impersonate me. I didn't have very much experience with that, I mean I've worn disguises in the past-"

"You have? How often?" 

"Oh, pretty frequently, I guess. It's part of my job. A Rescue Ranger is required to work undercover occasionally. But I didn't want a disguise, because I didn't see why I should hide who I was, just because someone else was hiding who they were, and that led me to think that the next best thing would be a makeover which does make you look different but doesn't really count as a disguise. Well, of course, no one does a makeover alone. You always have to have a friend to give an opinion and help you out and just to talk to while you're waiting for your hair dye to dry, so the first thing I did was go to look up an old friend and she helped me to look different but when I left the Ranger skate had been stolen and by that time I guess maybe the Ranger plane had been stolen too, only I wasn't there to know about it, I only found out about it later, and this rat said he had seen who had done it and he seemed so nice only I guess he wasn't really, in fact he was about as far away from nice as you can get and my being here is really his fault and not mine at all if you look at it in the right way, which no one will, because they all think I'm a liar or crazy, because he was the one who bought me a couple of drinks and then put something in one of them that made me table dance and start a bar fight and then police came and because I was too dazed to understand what was going on I couldn't explain why I didn't belong in a place like this and the next thing I knew I was on trial and the impostor had gotten caught up in a robbery and someone had put her in hospital and everyone was so angry that they never even listened when I tried to explain. You'll help me convince them, won't you Doctor?" 

Gadget was wearing her strongest "please-believe-me" expression; the one with really huge blue eyes and the pout that her father had made her promise never, ever to use when a male- any male, even him -could see it. Unless her life depended on it. Gadget felt this situation was close enough.

Doctor Schadenfreude looked straight into it without blinking. And then he said: "No." 

There was a slight pause while Gadget did a double take. Granted, she hardly ever used her looks to get her own way. In fact she kept a running total and had made a promise to herself to stop when the number of times she had done it was in double figures. But even so, she had expected more than just "No."

"Uh, please?" She tried, hopefully.

"No." Doctor Schadenfreude looked at her kindly. 

"Uh, did you understand everything I just said? Sometimes I talk a little too fast for people to keep up."

"Young lady, please. I am a bat, you know. Of course I heard everything you said and I understood it better than you probably do yourself. But I have been a psychiatrist for many years and heard many stories such as yours. All I want to do is help you and the best way to do that is not by feeding your delusions."

Gadget started at him, her mouth open. Her right eye twitched, once. "Uh, no." she said. "I'm not crazy. I swear I'm not crazy." 

"Of course not. Nobody is ever really crazy. That's just a word used by people who don't really understand the complex inner-workings of the machine we call the mind to lump together everyone who has a problem with their mechanism, so to speak." The Doctor blinked and smiled.

Gadget screamed. 

The Doctor covered his ears with his wings and grimaced in pain. Screaming at a bat from point blank range was a little like punching anyone else in the face. 

"What is it with you people?!" Gadget demanded, loudly. "I've been through three days of hell because none of you have the brains to understand that there has been a very simple misunderstanding? What is your problem? Are you all stupid? Do you just not care about what you put people through so long as you have a piece of paper that says you're just doing your job to wave about? I am not crazy! Have you got that? I am Gadget Hackwrench and I want to talk to Chip Maplewood right now!" 

"Ah. Young lady. Please. You must know it is not a good thing for a bat to be shouted at. Please, I assure you, it is not possible for you to speak to Chip Maplewood. If I determine that you are sane then the possibility of you being crazy we will have discounted and I will make representations to the warden that an interview between you and Mr Maplewood should be arranged.

"Now, I am sure that Miss Hackwrench would want to co-operate with someone who was doing his best to help. Let us proceed with the evaluation and, if you are proving to be sane, we shall move on from there."

Gadget ground her teeth in frustration. "I am sane. So there! Put that in your evaluation." 

Doctor Schadenfreude gazed at her reproachfully. "Please, young lady. If you will not be evaluated properly then I cannot help you at all. I know it must be trying for you but you have to accept this. Either you will be evaluated, by me or I will have to advise the warden that you refused to co-operate and then, at the end of your evaluation period here, you will be returned to the general population. That would mean no further consideration of your claim to be Gadget Hackwrench, firstly because the implication will be that you are hiding something and secondly because the possibility that you are a raving loony will have been left open. Also, any future problem you are having with loose marbles rolling around in your attic will probably go untreated." 

He looked at her sadly. "It is the way the system works." He said. "You cannot fight it." 

Gadget slumped. "Alright. Where do we start?"

"At the beginning." Doctor Schadenfreude replied. With that, he opened his briefcase and removed a notebook and pen. The notebook he held upside down, so that the used pages hung loosely. The pen had a ring of metal attached to it that he clipped onto the "thumb" on one of his wings, so that he could write with it. "What is your earliest memory?"

Gadget blinked and sighed. "How much time do we have, Doctor? I figured you wouldn't be spending more than ten minutes with me."

"With my normal patients, I wouldn't spend more than ten minutes just to see how they are doing. But a new patient gets twenty minutes." 

"Twenty? And you see them for ten every day you come in after that?"

"No, only on the day of the week I originally see them. That means every Wednesday for you. Why are you avoiding my question?"

"I'm not. I'm just trying to work out how long it will take to convince you that I'm not crazy. Ten minutes a week and twenty now? That's four weeks before we've had an hour's worth of time together." 

"Is very regrettable. My time is much in demand." 

"Couldn't we just have an hour now? It'd save time in the long run because then I wouldn't have to be kept locked up your psychiatric ward for a whole month."

"I understand, but I am afraid the answer is not being yes. We need to observe your symptoms over a long period of time in case they only occur rarely." 

"Well, my first memory is of an aeroplane."

"You are travelling somewhere?"

"No, it was a toy hanging over my cot. A yellow and red monoplane with two wing mounted propellers and a non-retractable undercarriage."

"Okay, does that memory make you happy or sad?" 

"Happy."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I like aeroplanes?"

"What happens next in your memory?"

"My mother comes into feed me."

"Out of a bottle?"

"No."

"You are grown up enough for solid food?"

"Uh, no. Doc, where is this going?"

"What does she feed you with then?"

"Um. Milk?" Gadget answered carefully. 

"From where?" 

Gadget looked at the doctor, poker-faced. "You're a Freudian psychiatrist, aren't you?"

"Come, come, answer the question."

"Herself. She's feeding me milk from herself." Gadget admitted with a slight blush.

"And how does this memory make you feel?"

"Right now? Embarrassed."

"Because you are a grown-up telling another grown-up about it, but how does the little baby mousling feel?"

"Warm, safe. Snug and secure. Loved. Like she's never going to leave."

"Who, your mother?"

"Yeah." Gadget said softly, looking away.

"Saying that makes you feel sad, doesn't it? Why is that?"

"Because she did leave. She didn't want to but she had to go away." 

"Where to?"

"I don't know, okay? My father didn't know either. One day she just never came home. It happens sometimes. Someone you love goes out same as normal and they never come back." Gadget's voice was harsh and a little angry. She didn't like that. A detached part of her knew she was giving up a little piece of what control she had left over herself. 

"And that hurt?"

"Not at first. Not for a long time. I just missed her and thought I'd done something to make her leave. And dad was out all the time, looking for her, and I was so worried he would disappear too. Then he told me that she wasn't coming back and that we'd probably never know why. It must have been nearly a year later; I'd asked him if she'd be back in time for my birthday. I realised that I couldn't remember what colour her eyes were and how she wore her hair. That hurt. That hurt me a lot." 

"Children, they forget so quickly. But often this is a blessing." Doctor Schadenfreude commiserated. "Your mother's disappearance was never explained?"

"Missing, presumed eaten." Gadget said softly. "You know how horrible it seems when you hear about it happening for real for the first time."

"Oh, yes. And this marked a big change in your life?"

"I guess so. That was when my father stepped in and started raising me his own way. I guess before that he'd let mother make all the decisions about how I should be raised. He didn't really have any idea how to raise a girl, so he just raised me the way he had been raised: like a boy."

"I see. Did that cause you any problems?"

"I tended to be a loner, because neither the girls nor the boys accepted me."

"Did you have many imaginary friends? Often, when a child is isolated, the imagination will grow like a weed."

"I'm not sure I like the comparison. The imagination has always been a useful tool for me."

"That's very interesting, do go on." 

"Anyway, I didn't. I never liked let's pretend. I always preferred building things. Did you ever notice, doc, little girls like to build things, little boys like to knock things down?"

"Yah, I know. But tell me, if you were raised by your father, what is your earliest memory of him?"

"Um, he was a pilot. He sat me on his lap as he flew his aeroplane when I was very small. I remember the clouds looking so beautiful and everything on the ground was tiny, like I'd become a giant and I could look down on everything. When it got cold, he tucked me inside his leather bomber jacket and the vibrations from the engine sent me to sleep. I remember, it was one of those planes with the engine in the back and the propeller up front, with a shaft running under the pilot's seat, so the vibrations were really noticeable." 

"Do you like flying?"

"I love it. It's the greatest thing in the world, next to inventing." 

"Do you dream of it often?"

"Yes, all the time." 

"Is there anyone with you when you dream of it?"

"Sometimes."

"Who?"

"My father. Sometimes my friends."

"Tell me about your friends."

"Well, Chip's sort of my boss. He's a detective and he's very dedicated. He was the one who wanted to form the Rescue Rangers. Dale's his best buddy. He isn't as smart as Chip but he has a good heart and a lot of imagination and he's more, gentle, I guess the word is. Not that Chip isn't a gentleman. Well, he isn't; a man, I mean. That is, he's a male chipmunk but that doesn't mean he isn't gentle, although he can be a little forceful at times. Actually I guess that rules out his being a gentleman altogether but he knows how to behave himself and that's the essence of a gentleman, wouldn't you say? Anyway, that leaves Monty and Zipper. Monty was my dad's best friend. He's always been like an uncle to me. Zipper is Monty's best friend. He's a housefly." 

"I think that about wraps up our session for today. We are out of time." 

"Oh Doc, do I have to be kept in a rubber room for the whole twenty-eight days I'm here?" 

"Security is very tight but by Friday we should have your own maximum security cell for you. You won't even have to wear a straight jacket. Unless you need one that is."

With that, the bat righted him self in one fluid motion born of many years practice and dropped to the floor. He gave Gadget a casual wave and picked up his briefcase. 

"Wait a moment, aren't you going to diagnose me?" 

"Not until your observation period is over. Goodbye, Miss…?" Doctor Schadenfreude turned with one eyebrow raised, as if he had forgotten her name.

"Hackwrench." Gadget supplied automatically.

"Of course." The Doctor nodded sadly, and closed the door behind him.

"How is she, Doc?" Asked a passing orderly. 

"Hoo-hoo! She is one pretty package but she rattles up top when you shake her a little, I think."

"Screw loose, huh?"

"And how!" The Doctor laughed. 

49

"Gadget Hackwrench dead! Impostor Jailed!" The newspaper seller was a mouse about nine years old. He probably should have been in a classroom of some kind but no one tried to move him on from his regular pitch, on the corner of the rodent market, under the platform of a human railway station. His shrill voice cut through the low busy sounds of hundreds of small animals going about their business, straight into the heart of Chip Maplewood. 

Chip froze rigid when he heard the words. He stood as still as a cub staring into the eyes of a predator for the first time. Slowly he shook off the feeling of doom and terror that had swamped him. 

It couldn't be, he told himself. He was hearing things, that was all. It was to be expected. He had been away from home for four days, chasing rumours, lies and figments of other people's imagination. His feet hurt from walking and his head hurt from listening to multiple slanders against a girl he… had deep feelings of "friendship" for. More than once he had driven his claws into the palm of his paw after overhearing a new piece of gossip that he knew was nothing to do with the kind, gentle, brilliant mouse maid he had left behind. He had started to see Gadget Hackwrench look-a-likes out of the corner of his eye every time he turned around. 

"Read all about it! Gadget Hackwrench dead! Impostor jailed!"

Chip felt something strange happen inside his chest. He had thought it was just another piece of nonsense gossip the first time he heard the words, then the phrase "Read all about it" and all its implications hit him like a sledgehammer. Chip turned and dropped his travel case. The next thing he knew, he was running towards the newspaper boy like a thing possessed, his raincoat flapping behind him like a superhero's cape. 

The mouse boy looked nervously up at him from behind a pile of unsold newspapers almost half as high as he was. "What was that you were shouting about Gadget Hackwrench?" Chip demanded as soon as he got his breath back. 

The boy held up a paper so that Chip could read the headline: _Hackwrench dies! Impostor jailed!_ "Buy a paper, Mister? I'll take anything worth a snack, or even a copy of yesterday's paper now that we're recycling." 

Chip searched the unfamiliar pockets of the raincoat he was wearing. He had been missing his conventional bomber jacket and fedora hat since he left home but a Rescue Ranger in a place where someone posing as a Rescue Ranger had just robbed people stood an excellent chance of being jailed and he couldn't afford to be locked up while people verified his identity. Therefore, he was travelling incognito, under an assumed name. He was in no danger of being arrested for impersonating himself and no danger of convincing the newsboy to give him a free paper based on his reputation.

The travel bag he had dropped might well have had something worth trading in it. He looked forlornly back at where he had been standing, knowing that it could well have been kicked from one end of the platform to the other by now. He was down to his notebook, his pencil, his train ticket and a bag of apple seeds he had bought for lunch. He sighed and handed over the last meal he could be sure of until his train pulled in at the place he wanted to investigate. 

The newspaper was printed on the kind of paper humans used to roll their own cigarettes; it folded more easily than other kinds of paper and actually felt close to a human newspaper scaled down to rodent size. The printing quality was a little fuzzy, probably from an ink-jet printer rather than a laser printer, and Chip realised that his hands were shaking and that he would taste the paper to see what kind of ink they used before he would willingly read the darned thing to see if Gadget was really dead. 

Pull yourself together, he told himself. It won't make any difference whether you read the thing or not- if it's true, she'll be just as dead anyway and nothing you do can change that, because you weren't there! 

Chip took a deep breath, closed his eyes, offered up a prayer, opened them again and started reading. 

_Extra!                                                                                                                                             Extra!_ _The Underground Inquisitor_ _Rescue Ranger Brain Dead!_

**_Impostor Jailed! _**

The headlines screamed at him. 

Brain dead. That meant that she was still breathing. The doctors could be wrong. If they weren't then he could still be there for her when the end came. Chip took another moment to steady his nerves and plunged on. 

_The Rescue Ranger's home city was united in grief last night and may soon be united in mourning. Gadget Hackwrench (26), who has been lying in a hospital bed in a deep coma since she was all but killed in a heroic attempt to single-handedly prevent the largest rodent instigated jewel theft of all time, has been declared clinically brain dead, a reliable hospital source confided last night. _

A thousand thoughts rushed through Chip's head until he felt like the world was spinning around him. From somewhere very distant he heard his own voice say: "She's twenty four. If they can't even get that right why should anything else be true?" 

_Though reports of the incident itself are sketchy owing to the death of the criminals involved and Miss Hackwrench's own tragic condition, it is known that they made off with a substantial amount of jewellery from the Museum of __Culture and Antiquity__ before hijacking the Ranger Wing aircraft, which Miss Hackwrench appears to have deliberately crash landed rather than assist the criminals in their getaway and perhaps to avoid the fate the hoodlums had in store for her once she they were out of the law's reach. Your reporter can only shudder at the thought of what doubtless awaited the lovely Miss Hackwrench, who is renowned for being as beautiful as she is brilliant._

"Shudder?!" Chip's voice rose to a jagged squeak. "You're practically drooling, you ink-sniffing scandal-monger!" 

_"It's a genuine tragedy!" Mourned a hospital official who cannot be named. "She has shown no sign of recovery since she was brought in. At first we hoped that the coma would be short term, but now she seems to be slipping away altogether." Already, we are told, her pupils show no response to bright light, a sure sign of brain death and a respirator has to be used to keep her lungs working. _

"That's not right! She could have been blinded by the accident! Her optic nerves…" Chip trailed off. He couldn't find a shred of conviction in his voice. Everything around him seemed as black as night but his own eyes showed him every letter of the newspaper story in perfect detail. 

_No sooner had this rodent tragedy unfolded than another momentous story broke across town. At about the time the Ranger Plane was making its fateful dive into the headlines, Street Watch patrol volunteers were bringing in a sultry red-head for starting a riot in a bar by dancing topless. When questioned she gave her name as Gadget Hackwrench but there was no fooling these sharp-eyed city detectives and she was quickly charged with the many acts of deception, fraud and disorder that have recently been attributed to the heroic Rangerette by officials in numerous communities outside the big city. _

"Rangerette isn't even a real word." Chip whispered brokenly. He followed the story mechanically, his eyes skipping from one word to the next, but the only thing in his head was the image of Gadget. One by one he brought out his favourite memories of her, holding on to them like treasure. 

Gadget stood in the wrecked plane where her father had made a home for his little girl and his little girl had made death traps that would make Indiana Jones gulp with disbelief. Gadget beamed with pride as she showed off a new invention that actually worked. Gadget wore the red dress, the only proper dress she owned. Gadget kissed him on the cheek. Gadget blushed when he offered to win a prize for her at the fun fair. 

From behind him came a snatch of conversation: "Oh that poor girl. And to think I believed nearly every word of those dreadful rumours. I hope they threw the book at that wretched criminal." It was a female voice. It sounded snobbish and false, without a shred of real sympathy or condemnation for Gadget or the criminal who had played so recklessly with her reputation. 

Turning, Chip saw a lady weasel wearing stylish clothes and expensive jewellery. Her expression was nonchalant, her head high. Her every movement was poised and deliberate, like an actress or a model on a catwalk. 

"Yes, it is a shame." Agreed her friend, a grey mouse with a good figure but dowdy fur and a careworn face. "But I did warn you not to believe everything you hear." 

"Barbara, one simply can't check every little detail in the gossip one hears and repeats. You wouldn't have time to do anything else." 

"It's practically all you do anyway!"

Perhaps it was that which made Chip explode. 

"How could anyone believe the pure trash that been peddled as fact about Gadget!?" Chip nearly screamed. "She has a heart of gold and a mind as pure as freshly laid snow!" 

Heads turned to look at the crazy person. 

"Is this street theatre?" A slow voice asked.

"I don't think so, Kevin. Best if we keep moving before he pulls out a weapon."

"What did he say? All I caught were the words ""Gadget"" and ""laid""." A puzzled voice inquired.

"I think it was something about a puerile, fresh show." Another voice hazarded. 

"I wouldn't mind seeing that!" Someone else put in.

"No, no, it was in the paper, she's died. Most likely something about laying her to rest or something."

"If he's taking up a collection he's going to be disappointed with what I'll give him!"

Chip's mind began to crumble. For a split second he wished that he did have a weapon. Something terrifying and destructive, like the machine guns that humans carried in the films Dale liked so much. Chip shook himself to try and rid himself of the thought. He had to try and make them understand. 

Suddenly Chip was out from under the station platform and running up onto the railway. People looked at him, amazed as he jumped up onto one of the railway sleepers and turned back to lecture them. 

"Do you think it's easy? Do you think it's easy being beautiful and smart and kind, all at the same time? Because it isn't! Every time some slob who isn't fit breathe the same air that blows through your hair looks you in the eye and asks you to eat with him, you're smart enough to know he'll only be thinking about what he'd like to do to the whole time he's with you, if you accept, and you still care about how much it's going to hurt him to turn him down."

"We don't want to hear about your love life!" A heckler yelled.

The crowd laughed. 

"I'm not talking about me! I'm talking about one of the best people I've ever heard of, let alone met! Someone who was brave and honest, kind and giving, clever and beautiful! Can't you tell who I'm talking about?" Chip demanded.

"It's not me is it?" said the snobbish weasel. The grey mouse swatted her friend on the arm. 

"Go on then, tell us!" A big rat called up to the chipmunk. 

"Gadget! I'm talking about Gadget Hackwrench, you fools! One of the brightest souls who has ever walked the earth has slipped through our fingers and most of you are too clueless to even know it!" 

"Hey, buddy, you can't stand up there like that to preach at us!" a mouse in a uniform put in.

"Somebody has to! It's the only way to make you wake up and realise what you've done!" Chip shouted back. 

At the back of the crowd of small animals a hand was raised. "We can't hear you at the back! Some of us can't even see you!"

"Come closer to the platform!" Yelled the mouse in the uniform. 

"No, that's no good, they might be able to hear me at the back then but they certainly wouldn't be able to see me." Chip told him. 

Still facing the crowd, Chip took several steps back, hoping it might allow him to see more of the faces. He bumped into something, turned and saw that it was the metal rail of the railway track itself, gleaming in the sunlight. Without thinking, he climbed up onto it to gain height.

"I'm talking to you about Gadget Hackwrench." He yelled at the top of his voice. There was no doubt now that he had the attention of the entire crowd. Good, they're listening, he thought to himself. "She was twenty four years old. She spent most of that life travelling from one place to another with her father. She knew how much a kind word or welcoming smile could mean to someone when they were a stranger, alone in an unfamiliar place for the first time. When her father died, she was left alone, with no one to comfort her. But when she learned about the Rangers she chose to help others in need, even though it meant leaving the home she had made for herself, and everything that she had built up, behind!"

Chip stared at the crowd, who were looking silent and worried now. "How many of you would make the same choice? Who is there here who would dare to leave the comfortable, familiar home they've made for themselves because there are people in the world who need help more than any of you need to be safe, dry and warm?"

"Hey, mister-" began the mouse in the uniform, looking intimidated.

"There's one! Brave guy, lucky guy, to be so sure he could answer a call like that! Not many of us have the heart for it. Gadget Hackwrench did! And now she's gone!" Chip's throat was getting raw from yelling. "Anyone of you may find yourself in need, someday. Gadget Hackwrench would have saved you, if only someone had been there to save her! Remember that, when the time comes and you ask yourself: Who will save me?" Chip finished triumphantly, his head held high. 

In the brief silence that followed, Chip became aware of two things. The sudden vibration of the railway track under his feet and a small blur of movement streaking out from a sea of horrified faces. A blast sound that could only come from a train, or some vast mythical beast, hammered his ears. 

As the first screams of anticipated horror came from the crowd, Chip Maplewood, leader of the Rescue Rangers and soon-to-be chipmunk-puree, turned his head to see a titanic silver locomotive thundering towards him at sixty miles an hour. It seemed to be the height of a tall tree, as solid as a building and as unstoppable as a tidal wave. 

Chip froze. 

It happens sometimes, even to the best and most professional heroes. 

There was a split second, before the train screamed through the small town station on its non-stop journey between cities, when Chip could have jumped to safety under his own power and escaped unharmed. That moment passed him by, leaving him with just enough time to feel very, very foolish indeed.

All things considered, it was fortunate that a small, furry body, running fast enough be a blur, made a desperate flying leap and knocked Chip off the rail at the last instant. 

The leviathan swept over their heads with a sound so loud that it shook their bones. 

Chip lay on his back, not moving or thinking. He simply let his body deal with the important business of still existing. He was aware only of the noise of the train and the warm fuzzy weight on his chest, breathing as hard as Chip was. 

The underbelly of the train was one dark, jagged blur, like the side of a cliff as you passed it on the way down. Then it was gone and clear blue sky replaced it. 

Chip looked at the sky. He couldn't put the thought into words but, if he had been able to, it would have been: "I'm not dead". 

The bundle of fur and hand-me-down clothes that was lying on top of him, panting, tried to lift itself up. Chip looked at it and made eye contact. A second later he realised it was the newspaper cub he had bought the paper from.

"Sometimes, it takes four days for news to reach here from the city and by the time it does it can be pretty twisted up." The cub whispered hoarsely. "So when the paper isn't selling so good, they just print whichever version of the truth they think will sell most papers." 

Chip continued to lie still as he tried to digest this.

"I had to take most of my papers back unsold yesterday. So I guess this might be one of those times." The mouse cub said. 

Amazingly, the child wasn't crying. From the sting in his own eyes, Chip was pretty sure he was crying but he couldn't say why. It might have been because he had been told that Gadget was dead, or because he had found out there was still a chance she might be alive, or perhaps it was just that he had been frightened out of his wits. Which one had started the salt-water pouring down his face was something he would never know. His investigation was already forgotten. He had to get home to Gadget where, God willing, he was still needed. 

****


	9. An Unexpected Guest

**_Disclaimer_**

_In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone…  except a certain kind of lawyer._

**Chapter Nine**

**An Unexpected Guest**

50

There was a storm outside. Gadget tried to pull the covers up over her head and found she could not. They were wrapped around her too tightly. 

The wind at the window wailed like a soul in pain. 

Gadget knew she should put her head under the pillow to shut out the sound but she couldn't seem to free her arms from the tightly wrapped bed covers. Giving that idea up as a bad job, she twisted her head about in an effort to wriggle her way under the pillow. After a moment she realised the pillow was no-where to be found. It must have been knocked onto the floor at some point, she thought sleepily.  

The wind seemed to moan her name, drawing it out and filling it with an emotion that Gadget couldn't or wouldn't put a name to. 

Gadget's face creased in puzzlement. This was wrong… sort of. It was familiar and unfamiliar at the same time, like a forgotten dream returning to haunt the dreamer. 

Gadget blinked as she found herself in a straitjacket, on the padded floor of a box lined with bubble wrap. Her memory swiftly laid any confusion about where she was to rest. A nightmare, she thought. 

Something even darker than the near total darkness of her padded cell was visible out of the corner of her eye. Something that didn't belong in the cell with her. 

Gadget's eyes widened. It was a smart, brightly polished black shoe. Someone was there. Someone was locked in the cell with her. 

She gasped and started to writhe on the floor as she tried to turn and see who was watching her. She found herself eye to ankle with a pair of legs that were surprisingly thick and long for the small feet that supported them. They were wrapped in the high quality silk of an elegant, well-tailored suit. Before Gadget could get better look at her visitor he had stepped silently away, allowing her only a glimpse of a long, pink, hairless tail. 

He was a rat. 

She felt, rather than heard, a movement behind her. Her whole body went rigid. There was a strange male rat locked in the cell with her; he wasn't saying a word, he had moved out of sight when she tried to look at him and now he was doing something behind her. 

Gadget heard a faint sigh, followed by a chuckle that fell somewhere between being charming and self-satisfied. "Excuse me, who are you?" she demanded.

"Hmmm." The stranger seemed to be considering his answer. "Oh, I can't really claim to be any body. Not these days." A deep, smooth, English voice replied. 

"What are you doing here?" Gadget asked, turning her head as far as she could but still unable to see her visitor.

"Oh, the boys downstairs knew you were having a difficult time of it up here and sometimes- just sometimes, mind you, when there's a special case- they send people like me to visit a person who's having a difficult time. So that we can, ahem, council them." The voice lifted as though the speaker had smiled at the choice of words. 

"And they just let you in here, after dark? Without even turning the lights on?" Gadget quizzed him, sceptically.  

The English rat stepped closer with a light laugh. Gadget could almost see his face now, except that her hair had fallen across her eyes. 

"I can see you are everything they said you were." The strange rat almost purred.  

Gadget tried unsuccessfully to blow the hair away from her eyes so that she could look him in the eye. Without warning, the rat stretched out a hand and brushed away the offending lock of golden hair. 

Gadget flinched, not because the contact was unexpected, but because the touch had been so gentle that she might not have known it had happened at all if she had not seen it. Instead of reassuring her, the knowledge that she had been sleeping while this stranger was in her cell made her feel queasy and anxious.

"Who are you?" Gadget asked again. "What's your name?"

"Professor-" The rat broke off suddenly, as though a thought occurred to him. "I'm sorry, can I ask a silly question? How much do you know about history? Or crime?" 

"I don't know anything much about history, except the history of science and invention. I know more about crime than I do about history, because I'm a Rescue Ranger! But nobody believes me, so they stuck me in here."

"Oh, Gadget. Yes, that's right." The rat smiled down at the Rescue Ranger's amazed expression. "I know who you are. I wouldn't be here otherwise." 

"Really? Then you'll tell the others that I am who I say I am?" 

The rat's expression became almost exaggeratedly sad. "I'm sorry Gadget, but I can't do that. They wouldn't be willing to hear a word I had to say on the matter. Honestly, they'd just ignore me. Besides, it's really against the rules for me to see you. In fact, if I so much as tried to take your side by talking to the prison authorities, I wouldn't be allowed out- I mean, into the prison at all; let alone allowed to help you."

"Could you take a message to my friends on the outside?" 

"Miss Hackwrench! Clearly you don't realise that it's against the law for people to carry messages for prisoners outside of official channels! Why, I could face a heavy penalty for agreeing to what you're suggesting. A prison sentence, even." 

The rat looked shocked, but there was something about his manner that Gadget distrusted. She looked away with a frown. Had this experience destroyed her ability to trust people? It was possible; she knew that people who were seldom trusted found it difficult to trust others. 

"I'm sorry." Gadget said eventually. "It's just I'm so desperate to get out of here." 

"Well, I suppose I can overlook it this one time." The rat allowed. "But you have to promise me: you won't ask anyone to carry messages for you and you won't tell anyone you've seen me." 

Gadget blinked. Her suspicions about this stranger had faded since she laid eyes on him; he was polite, he had believed her when she had said who she was and he had refused to break the prison rules, even for a good cause. She was alone, yet again in her life, and she clearly needed somebody to help. 

There wasn't a shred of doubt that this Professor - he hadn't finished introducing himself, she remembered - could make her life a lot easier while she was here. But to get that help she would have to make a promise that closed the most promising doorway out of this nightmare she had been trapped in. She decided to stall long enough to think about it.

"What did you say your name was again?" 

"I don't think I did but, until I have your promise, I don't think it would be very wise of me to give you my name. I wouldn't want you to go telling tales to Doctor Schadenfreude, now, would I?" 

"I'm not sure I should be giving my word to anyone I haven't been properly introduced to." Gadget countered. 

"Hmm. Well, it's your decision." The rat mused, watching her expression out of the corner of his eye. 

Gadget frowned in thought. Give up on getting someone to get a note to the Rangers. Probably delay her eventual escape (uh, release, she reminded herself) from prison. Increase the risk of something bad happening to her, or the impostor doing something bad to her friends, in the meantime. In return have an easier life until she finally did get out of here and have one person to talk to who knew who she really was. One person who believed her and who knew she wasn't crazy. 

It was a difficult decision. 

Gadget's face creased with concentration as she tried to weigh up the odds of finding someone else who would carry a note to the rangers and of them believing it when they got it. They were pretty good, she decided. It might take a week or so to find that person but when she had, it wouldn't be long before everyone knew who she was. 

Of course, she hadn't forgotten what the warden had told her. Even once her identity was proved, she might still be stuck here. Then there was the question of asking someone to break the law for her. Someone who might be punished. 

But how else was she going to get out of this?

Ratigan watched the young inventor's face closely as the different thoughts played across it, her features changing and twisting with indecision in the darkness. He was half sure that she would come out in favour of trusting him but, if he lost her now, he knew it was over. Could he risk it, he wondered? A sorrowful look settled on Gadget's face and his nerve broke. 

"I tell you what," he offered as a compromise, "we won't worry about stuffy titles. After all, we aren't likely to be invited to a royal garden party where I'll have to call you ""Miss Hackwrench""."

"You'll tell me your name?"

"My name-" he whispered as though he were revealing an age old secret "-is Professor Ratigan." 

"Professor Ratigan?" 

"Don't let's be formal. You must call me James." 

Gadget blinked, a puzzled look creasing her normally perfect features. "I know that name…" she murmured. 

"Really?" Ratigan's frown was far darker than Gadget's.

"I can't place it, though…" 

"What a pity. Well, if you remember, you simply must let me know where you heard it. In the meantime, why don't you tell me how you got into this predicament? Assuming you're ready to give me word so I can stay and listen, that is."

Gadget stopped frowning and sighed deeply. "Alright." She said. "I promise. I won't ask someone to break the rules by carrying a message for me." 

"Excellent." The Professor clearly relished the word. "And the other?"

Gadget looked at him carefully. Her distrust was written across her face, plain for him to see. "Not yet. I won't promise to keep your visit secret until I trust you."

Ratigan looked at her with a slight scowl. "And what would that take my dear?"

"For one, I want you to promise that you won't try to hurt me." 

"I give my solemn word: I will not harm one single hair on your head, let alone any more substantial part of your body."

"For another thing, I want your promise that you won't try to get romantic while I'm all tied up." 

"And in return I only get one promise from you? No, I think not, Miss Hackwrench. Not that I'm free to pursue an affair of the heart at the moment but I do feel that any one promise of mine is worth one of yours." 

Gadget scowled at him. "I can't promise to keep you a secret if I don't feel safe. And that includes my, uh, virtue!" She added. 

"Well then, for what it's worth: I promise not to make any kind of physical contact with you for any reason, nor ask another to do so on my behalf. And that will have to suffice, Miss Hackwrench."

"Alright, then." She said. "I give you my solemn word that I won't tell anyone that you've been visiting me." 

Ratigan's smile was as friendly as a shark's. "Splendid." He purred. "Is there anything else, Miss Hackwrench, or do we trust each other now?" 

Gadget nodded.  Well, it's done now anyway, she thought. She had an instinct telling her that no good would come of it, but with the promise he had given her she could at least be sure that no bad could come of it either. "So, what can I do for you, Mr Ratigan?" 

"Oh no, my dear Miss Hackwrench. Rather, you should ask what I could do for you." 

51

Lawhiney was woken at 6.30 sharp, when the hospital nurse came to give her a bed-bath. The nurse, a frog who smelt strongly of soap, was clearly a morning person. Lawhiney was not. But since Gadget was, by reputation, the frog was spared the most acidic side of Lawhiney's tongue. 

The nurse chattered inanely about her job as she applied the lukewarm sponge to Lawhiney's aching and battered body. Lawhiney forced a polite smile and thought evil thoughts about the nurse until she was on her way out the door, when Lawhiney's instinct for mischief finally got the better of her. 

"You've been so pleasant. I hope we can do this again, soon." Lawhiney said. She added just enough carnal desire to the word "soon" that the nurse looked back in surprise. 

Lawhiney's face was a picture of purity and innocence and she remained silent, until the nurse had turned away again, when she blew a kiss at the frog's retreating back as the door closed. 

As the door swung shut, her guide was revealed, glaring at her with his hands on her hips. 

"Urk!" Lawhiney exclaimed with her lips still puckered. 

"Is that the attitude you're starting the first full day of your new life with?" Her guide growled at her. "The nurse woke me before I was ready to be woken so I'm going to embarrass her by pretending to flirt?"

Lawhiney managed to recover her composure and put on her best "I'm not impressed" expression. 

"I didn't notice you flirting with her." She said. It was a lame comeback and she knew it. 

"You know what I mean. Don't you smart mouth me, young lady." 

"Or you'll do what? Take me out to the woodshed?" Lawhiney's voice dripped sarcasm. 

"If you do everything right from here on out, I may just get to meet you on the other-side one day, and then I'll have the opportunity of doing just that! If you carry on the way you're going, you'll end up somewhere a lot worse than any woodshed."

Lawhiney broke eye contact first in the silence that followed. 

"Now; having talked things over with the-powers-that-be, or at least, my supervisor, I have determined that what you suggested yesterday was a half truth."

Lawhiney frowned as her memory failed to provide the necessary details.

"I'm talking about how your death at this point would spell certain doom for Gadget." Her guide prompted. 

"Oh, that." 

"Yes. "'Oh, that.'" as you put it. Well, it seems that you were only partly right. Gadget would not be released before the prison riot in January. The Rangers would have closed down and broken up by then, because of your death, but she'd be free and no worse off than she would be in the version of the future you saw."

"That wasn't what you thought last night."

"I didn't say that Gadget wouldn't have problems. She'd have quite a few."

"I bet. She's got a nice face, that Hackwrench girl." Lawhiney smirked.

"So have you, for that matter." Her guide returned, icily. 

"Why, thank you." Lawhiney chuckled.

"Why you-" her guide checked his temper. "Just you remember that one way or another you're going to be where she is a lot longer than she'll be!" he said when he finally got a grip on himself. 

"Don't count on that. One way or another, I'm going to see this child born and safe; at least. If they catch up with me after that, I'll take what's coming to me. I might complain about it a little, but the tribe mice didn't name me "'the whiner'" for nothing." 

Her guide dragged himself back to the point. "As I was saying: Gadget would be released. The Rescue Rangers, however, would be a dead duck. The organization that is, not the members. That means that the people they would have rescued in the time they would have been active would most likely die, or be severely injured. That isn't something that we want to be a part of but it would be your soul it weighed most heavily on, if you contributed to that."

"What? I'd burn in hell for all eternity, plus a bit extra?" 

"I'm sure the people who deal your kind downstairs could come up with something to cover it. I'm told they're very, very inventive like that." He arched an eyebrow as he looked at her.

Lawhiney knew some fairly inventive people herself; people who didn't believe in life after death of any kind, since they considered themselves professionals and believed that when they had done a job it should stay done. (Sometimes well done, or even char-grilled.) They gave a quality to the word "inventive" that Lawhiney was reasonably sure Gadget Hackwrench could never imagine in a million years. 

Suddenly, hell was easier and less pleasant to imagine. 

"Okay, I get the point." She snapped. "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to confess all to the next person you see." Her guide returned. "Just like you should have as soon as you woke up." 

"No. I've already told you why. Try something else."

Her guide sighed. "Then how about this: No more playing tricks for your own amusement and you won't do anything that might damage Gadget's reputation further than it already has been." 

"Ah, no. I agree to no playing tricks on the nurses or doctors for my own amusement, but I can't make any promises about Gadget's reputation. I will promise not to do anything un-Gadget-like in front of anyone who thinks I'm her, though." Lawhiney smirked at him.

"Oh, nice. Offering me something that you're going to do anyway in return for my approval and trust. You'd fit right in with the people who run things down below." 

"At least you know it's a promise I'm going to keep. Besides which, right now I doubt that Gadget herself could promise not to do anything that might damage her reputation." 

The guide glowered at her. "Gadget is in a very difficult and dangerous situation. There's no telling what she might have to do to survive."

52

Gadget had discovered the one advantage of being in the psychiatric ward. No one minded if she slept in. 

53

Chip staggered down the spiral staircase that the people who ran the Small Animals of Mercy Hospital had built into the wall cavity of the Cosgrove Hotel. He had been dizzy almost since he started the climb and was just praying that he could find his way down without needing a lay down in a hospital bed himself. It was a long flight from the small town where he had bought the newspaper even as the crow flies, which had been straight through a thunderstorm as it turned out. 

The crow in question remained on the roof, having left it until now to get suspicious about Chip's ability to pay. Well, one of the others would just have to go up and settle the tab. They had been sitting on their tails here for four days, instead of trying to get word to him, or working the case that had left Gadget broken and dying in this place. 

Finding the floor he had been directed to by the hospital staff on the roof, Chip burst through the door into a scene that strongly resembled pandemonium. Roughly twenty small animals of varying descriptions were pressing in around the stairwell doorway. They were all wearing raincoats and waving microphones, photographic cameras and notebooks and pens. 

Chip gaped at them for a half second and then a flash bulb went off, blinding him after the darkness of the stairwell. 

Instantly they set up on him. A dozen questions were fired at him so rapidly that he didn't hear one whole one over the babble of voices. Reporters. He had dealt with their kind before but never a baying mob of them like this one. 

"Get away from me!" Chip yelled.

"Just a few questions!" Someone shouted in his ear. 

"Go on, tell us something for our readers." 

"No, give me an exclusive! Let us tell your story!"

"Tell your readers-" Chip cut off what he was going to say. Some part of him was still hanging on to the tattered hope that everything could be the way it had been before he had left on his fool's errand. If the papers printed the message he had in mind, he doubted that anyone would ever look at the Rescue Rangers the same way again.

The crowd of reporters quietened in the belief that they were about to be told something. 

"There will be no statement or comment from me about what has happened to Gadget Hackwrench or any related matter until I have heard the full story from the people who were here at the time. Is that clear?" Chip said with self-control he didn't know he had. "When I have the full facts in my possession I will make a detailed statement to those people here who can behave like civilized professionals!" In other words, he thought, no one here is going to hear anything about this from me before hell freezes over. 

"Mister Maplewood! Can you tell us where you've been for the last five days?"

"Chasing scurrilous and ill founded rumours started by newspapers about as accurate as this one!" Chip snapped back, throwing the paper he had bought the previous morning at the reporter who had asked the question. 

There was a mad flurry of hands and tearing newspaper as reporters fought for control of the evidence against their profession. 

Chip used the distraction to make his escape. He almost made it but one young rat managed to snag the sleeve of Chip's raincoat long enough to ask one last question. 

"Mister Maplewood, do you have anything to say about the rumoured love triangle involving Gadget Hackwrench, Monterey Jack and yourself?"

Chip answered with a straight right punch that connected with the rat's nose. The rat spun backwards with his eyes spinning. In the uproar that followed Chip tore himself away from the herd of reporters. A packrat in a white coat caught him by the hand and dragged him through a door. Three orderlies tried to bring the reporters under control as the packrat secured the door. 

"Who are you?" Chip demanded.

"I'm Doctor Bell, I've been treating your friend, Miss Hackwrench. You are Chip Maplewood, aren't you? You don't quite look-"

"I changed my wardrobe. I'm Chip Maplewood. Is she dead?"

The doctor stared into the chipmunk's face, trying to see if he was serious. Chip's eyes were dark brown, bloodshot and sunken into a drawn and haggard face. 

"Lord, no. Gadget isn't dead! Who's been saying that?" the doctor stared at Chip in horror.

"I was out of town and the first I heard about this was when I heard a newspaper boy shouting the headlines, yesterday morning. I haven't slept or eaten since." 

"No wonder you look so rough. Did you get a bird to carry you back?" 

"Yes. He's waiting on the roof to get paid. I was hoping to send one of my friends up to take care of it, but I don't know if they're here."

"Mister Oakmont and Monterey Jack? Yes, one or the other has been here since Gadget was admitted, usually both. We make them go home and bathe occasionally but they take it in turns, so there's always one of them here."

Chip blinked and swayed as though punch drunk. "Who? Oh, Dale." It seemed strange hearing Dale called "Mister" by someone who was taller than elbow height. 

"Are you feeling alright?" 

"Fine, fine." Chip said. But he didn't. He was shivering and there was an unpleasant, wet, sticky feeling at the back of his throat that told him he was coming down with something, probably a chill from the journey through the thunderstorm. 

"When can I see her?" Chip demanded suddenly. 

"Miss Hackwrench? We normally make visitors wait until visiting hours, if only so that the patient can get a breather from reassuring all their anxious friends and relations but, if you come in with me, you can see her now." 

The doctor took Chip through a back door– the reporters were all too audible outside the office door they had come in through. The chipmunk was agitated and close to exhaustion and, rather than walk with him in uncomfortable silence, Doctor Bell began to list Gadget's injuries in medical terms. 

"Never mind the other stuff. Tell me about her head injury."

"It was pretty serious. She was in a coma for three days."

"And then she got worse?"

"Worse?"

"The newspaper said she was brain damaged." 

"Those hacks! They should leave medical diagnosis to the experts." 

"Doc, tell me if Gadget's okay, for crying out loud!"

"Well, we're here now. You can see for yourself; this is her private room." Doctor Bell held the door open for Chip and gestured that he should go inside. 

Chip hesitated. A brief vision of the helpless, crippled, brain-damaged Gadget that might be waiting for him on the other side of the door danced before his eyes. Then a voice he didn't recognize came from the room, saying: "Huh? Was that the door?" 

Chip stepped into the room. 

54

Gadget was lying in bed, propped up in a sitting position by pillows made from cotton wool balls wrapped in nylon gauze. Her hair was spread over the pillows in a spray of yellow. Her eyes were wide and startled; there were dark rings round them from lost or uneasy sleep.   

Chip took another step towards her, hardly daring to believe his eyes. 

Gadget's expression was one of horror. For a split second it flashed through Chip's head that she had been brain damaged and that it had left her with this new, permanent expression. Then her face twitched and she spoke his name in a strangled voice. 

"Chip! It wasn't… -It isn't my fault!" 

Chip took another step forward. She thought he was worried about the Ranger Plane. That was so like her. Couldn't she see that she was all he cared about? He shook his head sadly. 

"I wasn't sure you would around by the time I got back." He said, gruffly. 

Gadget's mouth opened and closed; her eye's brimmed with tears. 

Chip advanced on the bed, holding his hands out to her. He wanted nothing more than to take her hands in his and tell her everything that had gone through his heart in the last few hours. He wasn't the same chipmunk who had left to track down a piece of salacious gossip five days ago. He had faced something so terrible he never could have imagined it before.

Losing Gadget, forever. 

"When I think how close you were to slipping through our fingers," Chip told her, "it makes me so angry."

Gadget pulled the bed sheets over her head. 

Chip blinked. He knew Gadget was modest but he hadn't thought she was that shy. After all, it was a hospital bed she was in and he'd known her for years. "I've no one to blame except myself, I guess." He said. "There's so much I have never said to you."

One of Gadget's eyes peeped out from under sheets, her eyebrow daintily lifted in puzzlement. Still she said nothing. 

Very gently, Chip took one of her paws and held it in his own. "I promise that's going to be different from now on, Gadget. I won't be afraid to show everyone how I feel." 

Gadget's eye blinked rapidly. She stuck her head out from under the sheets and stared at Chip with an astonished expression. 

"Uh, right." She said; her voice strained with emotion. "How do you feel?" She asked.

"Gadget, I- AHCHOO!" Chip sneezed violently. The sneeze was followed by two more in quick succession, which forced him to sit down on the corner of the bed. "I feel like I've got a fever." He said, lamely. 

"Yikes!" The exclamation came from the doorway, where Doctor Bell looked aghast. "You've got a virus! You shouldn't be in here with an infection! If I'd known you had one I never would have brought you in." Marching swiftly across the room, the packrat took Chip Maplewood by the arm. "Come along, Mister Maplewood, I'll have to ask you to stay away from Miss Hackwrench until she's further along on the road to recovery." 

"But Doc," Chip complained as he was hauled towards the door. "I only just started sneezing. It's probably just a chill from the flight over." 

"Better safe than sorry." The doctor said. "The start of a cold is the most infectious part of it. You wouldn't want to slow the healing process; now, would you?" 

With a last forlorn look at Gadget, Chip allowed himself to be forced out of the room. 

54A

Lawhiney was just enjoying a few moments of peace and quiet, free from Doctors, nurses, or spectral phantasms from the great beyond, when the door opened. She had been almost ready to catch up on her lost sleep and could just about feel her favourite recurring dream coming on. She was looking forward to renewing acquaintances with the six best-looking warriors in the Hawaiian mouse tribe and the pool of cottage cheese big enough to swim in, so an interruption at this point was unwelcome. 

She opened her eyes and blinked. Her guide was peering down at her with a worried look on his face. He hadn't been there when she closed her eyes, but she was fairly sure he hadn't been the one to open the door.

"This is the best opportunity to confess you're going to have, Lawhiney." Her guide said, quickly and nervously. "I really think you should take it, because after this-" He broke off suddenly. 

"Huh?" Lawhiney queried. "Was that the door?" 

The guide straightened and looked away from her. Lawhiney followed his gaze to the doorway. She had turned the lights down so she could rest, which meant the hallway lights were brighter than the ones in the private room. It left single, stocky figure silhouetted in the doorframe for a moment, as though he wanted her to see him that way before he entered the room.

Lawhiney didn't recognize the chipmunk immediately. It was only when he moved, taking that first heavy, deliberate step towards her, that she took in the stocky build and determined features and identified him as Chip Maplewood. She had often imagined meeting him again but always on her terms. As he came closer she took in the upturned collar of the raincoat and the light in his eyes and wondered how she could ever have thought she would get away with it. 

"Chip!" she exclaimed. "It wasn't…" It wasn't what? It wasn't me? That was a good one. Maybe he'd laugh until she recovered enough to make a run for it. "It isn't my fault!" Lawhiney choked.

Chip took another step forward, his shoulders hunched, a slight smile on his lips as he shook his head to show that he wasn't buying it. 

Lawhiney glanced at her guide. She had been hoping for help, but she only got a sorry shrug. "Should've owned up straight away, like I told you, kid." He told her.

"I wasn't sure you'd be around by the time I got back." Chip growled at her. 

Lawhiney searched frantically for an excuse. She was insane. No, that was a one-way ticket to the laughing academy. She had been kidnapped and forced against her will. No, that wouldn't work now; she had carried on the game in hospital. If she had identified herself the moment she woke up, as her guide had told her to, there were a dozen things she could have claimed had forced her to impersonate Gadget. Now it was too late.

Lawhiney's mouth opened and closed as it waited for her brain to supply the magic words that would save her. There weren't any. And now her eyes were misting over. Yes! Tears! That might save her! Big strong males never knew how to deal with a tiny female wailing and leaking water all over the place. 

"When I think how close you were to slipping through our fingers," Chip told her, "it makes me so angry." And with that, he stepped forward again, his hands stretching out as if to take her by the throat. 

Lawhiney quailed. The only things to shield her self with were the bed sheets. She was a goner, for sure, and she knew it. As Chip closed in for the kill Lawhiney was reduced to hiding under the covers like a little girl afraid of the bogeyman. 

She heard Chip's voice from the other side of the covers. "I've no one to blame except myself, I guess." He said. "There's so much I have never said to you."

Huh? What hadn't he said to her?

Lawhiney waited for him to take hold of her and shake a confession out. When he didn't she allowed one eye to peep out and check his expression. It seemed gruff, yet kind, like Saint Peter's.

Very gently, Chip took one of her paws and held it in his own. "I promise that's going to be different from now on, Gadget. I won't be afraid to show everyone how I feel."

Later, Lawhiney was grateful her face had been hidden when she heard those words. In other circumstances, she would have laughed in the face of any alleged alpha-male who had come out with a line like that. But for now she was only aware of one word: "Gadget." 

He had called her Gadget. 

He didn't know. 

Lawhiney replayed the last minute in her mind and tried to make sense of it. As she did so, she dropped the bed sheets in amazement. Vaguely aware that Chip was expecting her to say something, she stammered: "Uh, right. How do you feel?" 

Chip's face writhed with indecision for a moment, as though he were the one with a burning need to confess. Dear Lord, Lawhiney thought, he's going to ask me to marry him or something! 

"Gadget, I- AHCHOO!" The sneeze was so explosive that Lawhiney almost jumped out of bed. It was followed by two more in quick succession. "I feel like I have a fever." 

"Yikes!" The exclamation came from the doorway, where Doctor Bell looked aghast. "You've got a virus! You shouldn't be in here with an infection! If I'd known you had one I never would have brought you in."

The packrat stormed across the room and pulled Chip off the corner of the bed. Chip protested all the way to the door but it was obvious that their intimate moment was over. The leader of the Rescue Rangers looked back at Lawhiney one last time before the Doctor bundled him out of the room. His expression was that of a small child who had just been sent to bed without dessert. 

Lawhiney was left looking after them with a sour smile on her face. No marriage proposal from this commitment-phobic today, Lawhiney thought. Sheesh, how long had the real Gadget put up with this kind of thing?

"Of all the incompetent, dim-witted, clueless, gumshoe wannabes…." The guide spluttered. "I don't believe it! How could he mistake you for Gadget? It's impossible! You don't even smell right! You're hair's a different colour, for crying out loud."

Lawhiney smirked at him. "Face it, pal. I'm as good as the real thing!"

Her guide's bristly moustache twitched in annoyance. "Saints alive, are you wrong on just so many levels!" 

"Ah, relax and take it easy." Lawhiney moved to fold her arms behind her head and grimaced in pain. She had forgotten that her shoulder had been dislocated. "You're not the one in pain. All you've got to do is sit tight until I get out of here and then watch me reform." 

"He'll figure it out, you know. He's a great detective. Or will be, in a few years. If you don't screw things up for him." Her guide added to prick her conscience. 

"So I may have to give him some sugar to keep him sweet until I'm back on my feet." Lawhiney smiled. "Come to think of it, would that work with you?"

"NO!" Her guide glared at her in a fury. "I'm- Wait a minute, what do you mean, ""Give him some sugar""? What about your condition?" 

Lawhiney laughed at him.

"Oh, I get it. Teasing your spirit guide, huh? Let's see if we can give him a heart attack and kill him a second time." The guide gave her a twisted half-smile that would have been rakish on a taller, younger mouse. 

"Aw, come on, Mister whatever-your-name-is. Did you ever have a sense of humour? Because if I have to hand mine in for the wings and halo then I'm gonna live forever." 

"Your sense of humour runs to robbery with violence, kiddo. I'm sorry if you think that makes me a grouch, but it's my job to act as your conscience until you grow a new one of your own."

"Yeah, I know. Now how about you get out of here and let me sleep."

"If you can. Just because Chip's not the detective he's cracked up to be, that doesn't mean that someone else won't work it out." 

"Ah, don't be too hard on him. The hospital disinfectant messes up everyone's sense of smell and the lights are turned down in here because I WANT TO GET SOME SLEEP!" Lawhiney bawled at him. 

The door opened and Doctor Bell put his head back in. He looked around the room before blinking at its sole occupant in puzzlement. "Do you have a visitor?" 

"Hah, no, of course not. I was just frustrated because I can't get any sleep. Was there something you wanted?"

"Uh, yes. The tests we ran this morning? We got the results back from the lab. In record time, too."

Lawhiney became very still. "What were the results, Doctor?"

"Positive. You're pregnant. It's very early days; far too early to say how many babies or what sexes they will be." The doctor looked at her to see how she was taking the news. 

"I knew I was." Lawhiney whispered with a smile and she hugged herself tightly. 

"Do you want me to tell your friends?" 

"What? Hell- I mean, heck no. I don't want them to make any more of a fuss than they will while I'm recovering." A thought seemed to strike her. "Hey, doc, how long is it going to take for me to recover, anyway?"

"You've gone from a coma to sitting up in bed in twenty-four hours. That's remarkable for anyone, but a complete recovery could take months."

"How long before I'm mobile? Able to walk, say, a block under my own power?" 

"It'll be about six weeks before we can take the splint off your broken leg. The stitches in your side where we fixed the internal bleeding should be ready to come out a couple of weeks before that. I wouldn't advise doing anything physical until then, but you should be able to get to the bathroom by yourself by the end of next week. The bones should have knitted by then." 

"Six weeks, huh, doc? Thanks." 

Lawhiney's guide stepped up beside her bed. "A lot can happen in six weeks." He told her. "You can't keep the lights turned down for that long. And sooner or later someone is going to realise your voice has changed. Chip might have been too happy to see Gadget to notice but it'll happen, eventually."

"I'll come by and see how you're doing, now and then." The Doctor nodded to her on his way towards the door.

"Say, Doc, could I have my personal effects back? The ones that were on me at the time of the crash?" 

"Sure." Doctor Bell said, hesitantly. "It might bring back memories of the crash, though. Some of them were pretty damaged. We had to cut the overalls off you." 

"It doesn't matter. I'd just like to have them." 

The doctor shrugged. "Do you want these lights turned down like this?"

"Yes. Thank you, doc." 

"Okay, then." The doctor closed the door behind him, leaving Lawhiney as the only living soul in the room. 

"What was that about?" Her guide frowned.

"Lorrie gave me a cylinder of helium gas to help me imitate Gadgets voice so I could steal the Ranger Plane. I didn't have time to change out of my disguise, so the hospital must have it."

"Then they'll look at it and know you're a fraud." Her guide said.

"No, Gadget's an inventor. They'll just think that it's one of her inventions and hand it over without question. There should be enough helium left in it to help me fake Gadget's voice for a while." 

"And I suppose you're going to ask one of the nurses to help you dye your hair when that bleach job starts to grow out, too?" 

"That's just what I was thinking." Lawhiney looked at him. "For a conscience, you make a pretty good accomplice."

Her guide scowled at her. "I may have that heart-attack yet." 

55

Gadget had been in the padded cell for three days now. She had been allowed out once to see Doctor Schadenfreude and every morning to wash under the supervision of a female orderly. After every meal there was a period that lasted roughly an hour when, if she asked nicely, she could visit the bathroom. 

Her food was passed to her through a hole in the door that could be covered from the outside. It consisted of the hard pellets of mouse health food that pet stores sold, served three times a day with a bowl of water. Gadget had lived on it before; she even had a tub of them in her lab, though she kept a bowl of dip on the side for flavour. By this time, she never wanted to see another food pellet again.  

The hardest part of being a mental patient was bladder control. On her second day she had learned (by counting as she hopped from one foot to the other) that it took roughly ten minutes for someone to respond to her yells, a further ten for her to be escorted to the bathroom due to all the doors that had to be unlocked between the padded cell and the little-lunatic's-room and a final agonizing five minutes to get the straight jacket off. So far she hadn't had to use the latex panties that had come with the straitjacket. She hoped that would continue. 

One thing that Gadget hoped wouldn't continue was the boredom. 

It seemed to be relentless. 

She had nothing to do but think. She'd always been good at that. But, just like a big body needs more food to fuel it, a big mind needs more to inspire it. Here there was nothing to stimulate her at all.  

She knew from experience that isolation and boredom could do terrible things to a person's self-discipline and concentration. She remembered, bitterly, the loss of her father and her self-imposed isolation from the few friends she already had for the year that followed. A vision of how she might have been if Monty and the boys had found her a year later than they did danced briefly in her mind's eye. 

Gadget shivered. A straightjacket could have been a necessity instead of an inconvenience.

She had picked over every action, coincidence or random event that had brought her to this sorry place a thousand times. She had replayed the trial in her mind. She had drawn up a list of things to do when she regained her freedom. She had drawn up another list of things she would like to do but probably wouldn't, because she was a good person and it wasn't a nice thing to hold a grudge. 

None of it did her any good; she was spinning her mental wheels and she knew it. The more she tried to concentrate, the more her thoughts seemed to slip away. Soon, she found herself worried half to death that she might be losing her mind from boredom. 

Her eyes had started to play tricks on her. All the walls were the same colour and distance away; her eyes would settle on a spot on the wall but then, as they got tired, her gaze would drift towards the vanishing point. Her brain would start to see an infinite white plain under an equally white sky instead of a featureless white wall. 

She had counted the number of bubbles in the bubble-wrap, first by counting one row and multiplying by the number of rows, then one at a time to check that she had got it right. She had. Then she had worked out the density of bubbles per square inch, foot, yard and mile. 

After lunch (More pet food pellets), she took to bouncing her head against a single bubble, first because the rhythmic movement was soothing, then to see if she could burst the bubble. When one of the orderlies slid back the peephole cover to check up on her Gadget stopped, abruptly, and hoped she hadn't been seen doing something so silly. 

The peephole cover had been replaced after a minute or so. 

Gadget knew that she had to find something to keep her mind busy or she could be in serious trouble. Her thoughts returned to her cell, but this time she tried to think of it in a different way. Approaching a subject from a new angle sometimes gave her a new insight and that could change everything. 

Gadget's bubble-wrap padded cell was, she knew all too well, a liberated and heavily modified sanitation department research trap. It was the kind that boxed a living rodent, often a rat, in a space one and half times it's own body length until a human scientist showed up to dissect him or her. Since she was a mouse and smaller than a rat she had more space than a larger creature might have had but she had no way to take advantage of it. 

Many a terrified soul had passed a wretched night in such a box as they waited for the human who would slice them into microscope slide sized slivers after they had ventured into the trap on a dare, or because they thought they were too smart to get caught, or because they were desperate to escape a cat. Sometimes, when personal differences got out of hand or a mugging victim gave his robbers more trouble than he was worth, a person was thrown into one of the traps deliberately.

The cell was one of many, built into the spaces that humans had forgotten about when they built or modified their own prison up above. She knew there five other cells joining the cast iron drain pipe the prison authorities had turned into a well-lit corridor. Someone had been busy with a welding torch when they put this place together, Gadget noted.

There were three other corridors and they were just like this one, but as far as she could gather this was the only corridor with padded cells. The rest were ordinary high security cells, one of which was reserved for her as soon as the current incumbent could be moved to proper mental hospital. There was also a communal ward for patients that the doctors and orderlies felt weren't dangerous.  

Gadget frowned and bounced her head off the padding again. The whole psychiatric wing was a prison within a prison. There wasn't so much as a staple left lying around where a patient could get at it and she was only let out of the straight-jacket in the bathroom, under close supervision, when she didn't have the time or the inclination to make a run for it. There were three locked doors she would have to get through just to get into the main prison and there she would be recaptured… 

The Rescue Ranger blinked rapidly. Gadget hadn't even realised that she was planning an escape until she started to think that it might be impossible. She had been over this ground on the prison boat; as long as she was a Rescue Ranger and believed in the things the Rescue Rangers stood for, breaking out of prison would be hypocrisy and a crime. If her resolve were failing she would have to be stern with herself. Her principals were more important than homesickness. Even if she did miss Monty's cooking and Zipper's humming and her morning coffee with Chip and late night science-fiction shows with Dale and…

Her eyes were misting up. Gadget choked off a sob, angrily. This wasn't helping her to get out of here. She needed a plan and a good one. 

Perhaps if she started to chew through the bubble wrap padding on the walls she could expose a nail or a rivet on the metal walls. That might be enough to cut her-self free of the straightjacket. If she made sure that the damage wasn't visible from the peephole the guard would open the door for her to go to the bathroom the same as usual. She could overpower the guard, maybe, given the element of surprise. Then steal the keys and uniform and leave the orderly in her place. (That had a nice, karmic feel to it, given that she was here in someone else's place.) Of course, as soon as she met another orderly she would be in trouble. But she knew she could fuse the lights without any trouble and once she was in the main prison complex she was sure she could slip pass for a real orderly because only Officer Haggs had seen her enough to recognize her. 

It seemed like a solid plan, given that she had nothing whatsoever to work with. Although now that she thought about it, if they'd locked her in a room full of tools and spare parts she might well have been there for weeks trying to pick the best possible escape plan from all the possibilities. In that respect, being locked up in a room like this had been helpful, even. 

Gadget's heart thrilled at the thought of being home again. She could just imagine the look on her friend's faces as she walked in on the door and explained what had happened to her. Monty would tower with rage at the way she had been treated; as much as she dreaded the thought of trying to calm him down, knowing how angry all this would make him reminded Gadget how much he cared about her. Dale would be very confused and would bother her for days afterwards with childish questions but she knew he would find ways to make her laugh at everything she had suffered. Zipper would be horrified but could be relied on to listen to anything she had to say about her experiences privately and never breathe a word to anyone else. Chipper would be dumbstruck at how stupid he had been in not detecting the fraud immediately. Gadget could picture how devastated he would look, especially as he put her in handcuffs and escorted her back to jail, which he would be honour-bound to do in the circumstances…

Gadget lay still, caught in the scenario like a rabbit in the headlights of an on coming car.  

And that would be the end of the Rangers, because Monty at least would never forgive him; heck, Chip might not even be able forgive himself. He would certainly never accept that she could forgive him. 

Assuming she could…

Gadget had always thought she was a good person, a loving and giving person, and a forgiving person. She knew, logically, that there must be limits to how good, loving and forgiving she was. She'd just never considered where those limits lay. Could a good person, a friend, do something honourable and even noble that she would never forgive them for? And if they did and she could not then did that mean, by default, that Gadget Hackwrench was a bad person? 

Gadget lay very still. 

Her friends could be in danger from the impostor. But from what she had heard it seemed more likely that the impostor was lying helpless and heavily bandaged in a hospital bed. In fact, once Monty and the boys knew the truth it would be the impostor who was in danger, rather than her friends. So long as there was no reason to think that her friends were in danger, escaping from prison would only make things worse for everyone. 

Gadget bit her lower lip as gently as she could. It took her mind off her aching heart. She had to stay put until someone else discovered the truth and came to fetch her. Even if she hadn't slept in her own bed for five days, or strictly speaking five nights, and someone else might soon be taking her place in it. 

At that thought her temper, which she worked hard to control, flared violently. It was fuelled by the frustration of her confinement and sparked by the image of an impostor wearing her nightclothes, resting their head on her pillow and handling her private possessions. 

Everyone has a few things that are too personal to be shared even with the people they are closest with. The things that live behind shelved books, at the back of underwear draws and under beds and mattresses. There are leftovers of childhood fantasies and mementos of romances that never happened outside their owner's heart, all kept tucked away in corners and in boxes and at the backs of shelves in every home. 

Gadget pictured the interloper, the person who had stolen her life, reputation and friends, pawing these treasures as if she were in a flea market or a garage sale. She could picture her sneering with amusement at this photo, laughing at that note that had been passed to Gadget in school and that she had kept all these years, discarding that treasured keepsake as though it were worthless trash. The thought made Gadget feel violated and angry. 

And then there were the day-to-day things that people don't even notice until they see them through the eyes of a visitor. The rotten, twisted little crook would see the worn and discarded underwear and the unmade bed, the hair and fur that had built up in the shower plughole and the hairbrush. Gadget flushed with embarrassment at the thought a stranger wrinkling their nose at her careless housekeeping – if only she had been given enough notice to tidy up before being carted off to jail!

Gadget began to thrash about in fury. The straitjacket pinched, cut and chaffed in all the wrong places. She flopped about like a fish out of water, rolled over repeatedly and finally banged her nose on one of the bubbles. It didn't hurt, but it did make her want to sneeze. If she did, there wouldn't be any way she could wipe her nose with her arms restrained like this. Desperately, she willed the desire to sneeze away, her face twitching and twisting as she fought the urge. 

Just as she thought she had succeeded a faint puzzled noise came from the doorway. The peephole was uncovered. Someone was watching her. Gadget met one of the puzzled stare of one of the male orderlies with a dumbfounded expression of her own. Realising that he had been spotted, the orderly covered the peephole. The instant the metal cover clinked shut Gadget's sneeze exploded, leaving her nose dripping and her eyes moist.

"D'oh, dang 'n' blast it!" Gadget moaned. She hadn't wanted to be seen like that. Now the orderly would tell Doctor Schadenfreude about it and she would have to waste a ten-minute session explaining her self. 

Gadget, her face wet and sticky from the nose down, sighed deeply and waited for Monty to open the door to the cell and say in his deep, booming Australian voice: "Crikey, don't you look a sight, Gadget-love. You'll never guess what put Chipper onto that fraud." 

Monty did not appear. The door remained closed. Instead of Gadget being rescued, nothing continued to happen, one second at a time, for the rest of the day. 


	10. Rat, Bat, Dancing Mouse

_Disclaimer_

_In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone…  except a certain kind of lawyer.  _

Chapter Ten 

Rat, Bat, Dancing Mouse

56

Chip sneezed. He wiped his nose on the sleeve of his raincoat and looked forward to getting back into his old bomber jacket and fedora. There was no doubt about it. He had a fever and headache and he was going to need bed rest before Gadget was walking again. Separate beds in different rooms, worse luck, he thought to himself. He grimaced. He should be ashamed of himself for thinking like that. 

The chipmunk detective turned his thoughts to worthier things. 

He had called in a favour the Park Council owed him to pay the debt to the crow. They had agreed to provide the bird with six meals, a place to sleep for two nights and an introduction to an unattached female crow of similar age. The last condition had caused some embarrassed faces amongst the petty bureaucrats and politicians who administered the Park territories but they had little choice. With Gadget's name not just cleared but also nearly sainted by the injuries she had suffered in the museum robbery, it was hard to imagine a request they could refuse. 

The reporter Chip had punched had come back demanding an apology or an exclusive, preferably both, until Monty encouraged him to seek medical attention instead. In fact, Monty had made it a necessity for the reporter to seek medical attention instead. 

Chip hoped that Gadget would be up to full strength soon. She was a civilizing influence on all of them and one that he suddenly realised was sorely needed. 

Dale had been overjoyed to see his best friend again but Chip had been forced to hit him over the head after Dale had insisted on reciting the entire Dead Parrot Sketch from Monty Python. Chip would swear that he would never know how that chipmunk's mind worked. Dale had taken it well, and seemed calmer and happier afterwards for some reason. That helped Chip, in turn, to relax. 

Zipper was keeping a careful eye on Gadget's door and had promised to raise the alarm if anyone who didn't belong there tried to gain access. 

Doctor Bell, who had been treating Gadget because her regular doctor was on vacation, had promised that once he had seen his other patients he would find time to talk to Chip about Gadget's injuries, keeping the press out of the building and Chip's access to visit Gadget while he was infectious. At the thought that he had come all this way and couldn't talk to Gadget because of a sniffle, Chip scowled and accidentally sent a junior nurse fleeing for her life.

All in all, Chip thought things were under control. He could spend the rest of the day catching up on what he had missed while he was away and in the morning he would start working the museum case. 

He was tempted to find out more about the mouse who had been convicted of impersonating Gadget –the authorities were still without a better name than "Jane Doe" from what he'd heard –but she was safely under lock and key. 

The four crooks responsible for Gadget being in hospital, on the other hand, were not. 

The museum mice, the newspapers and the Street Watch all said that the robbers were "missing presumed dead" but Chip didn't believe it for a second.

For one thing, no trace of the bodies had been found. From a rodent's point of view, no predator is that tidy with its food. Discovering a stray finger or tail would definitely count as finding a trace of the robbers. Since nothing had been found at all that meant the robbers left the scene intact, one way or another.

A predator might have snagged a single body, much like a human passing a plate of donuts and for the same reason, but generally such animals used their mouths to carry a victim, which limited the number of bodies they could carry. True, that was not the case for larger animals, such as mountain lions, but the cat problem in the neighbourhood wasn't that bad! 

If the choices were limited to alley cat or crow then Chip had to conclude that either more than one predator had been involved, or one predator made more than one trip. The museum mice hadn't taken long enough to reaching the crash site for one predator to make several trips unobserved. That crossed out the chance that one animal had taken all the robbers. As for the possibility of a group of predators; alley cats were solitary hunters, which let them out; crows would have been noisy about it and been noticed by the museum mice. 

The more Chip thought about it the more he was certain. 

Four desperate criminals had hurt Gadget and nearly pulled off the biggest rodent robbery of all time –in his city, dang it– and escaped unnoticed in the confusion that followed! 

Now they had a six-day head start, all the ill-gotten gains of their previous jobs and probably a pre-planned escape route. Chip had a wrecked plane and a fragmented, disorganised team that was minus one of its key members. 

Catching up with the bad guys wasn't going to be easy. By now, they could be on the other side of the world. 

57

"Why are we still here? We should be on the other side of the world by now!" Pierre's cockney accent had become more noticeable under the stress of waiting. In fact, Lawhiney's four friends were hiding out in the basement of the Cosgrove Hotel, under Chip's very feet. 

Brandon snarled at the dishevelled con-artist. "'Cause no one feels like leaving, that's why. If you feel different from the rest, the door's over that way; otherwise, sit down." 

Normally Pierre was the leader of the group in Lawhiney's absence but the con-artist's nerves had been shattered by the crash, which had left Brandon to pick up the pieces and command their retreat. For months the biker mouse had chafed at playing second fiddle to the phoney French rat. Now Brandon knew why he had put up with it: being responsible for everyone else all the time sucked. 

As if it wasn't bad enough that he had to look out for everyone else's mistakes as well as his own, he had to do all the thinking, too!  And thinking wasn't Brandon's strong suit, either. He hadn't even thought to pick up some of their loot before they fled the crash site. Admittedly, he had been occupied with helping to carry Shaka Baka's unconscious body at the time but the Hawaiian mouse had done nothing thing but complain about his missing tooth since then and Brandon had begun to question how clearly he had been thinking when he had taken the trouble to rescue the overgrown baby. 

Lawhiney wouldn't have bothered to rescue Shaka Baka; that was for sure. If it came to that, Brandon suspected that Lawhiney wouldn't have hesitated to leave him for dead either, in spite of the good times they had shared. The memory of one particular good time arose, unbidden and unwanted, in his mind's eye. He remembered Lawhiney's eyes sparkling in the sunlight of a midsummer's day. Her laughter teasing him the in long grass that grew above the high tide line. The scent of her hair in the night, when they celebrated after robbing the grain silos at Redreach. 

"We've got to come up with a new plan." Brandon snarled at them and resumed his pose, a sitting position, with his chin resting on his fist and his elbow resting on his knee. The truth was he wasn't thinking at all. He was sulking. He didn't have the faintest idea what to do next. They ought to be running or trying to think of a way to recover their lost loot, but no-one's heart was in it. 

Looking back, Brandon realised that it had been Lawhiney who had brought them together, Lawhiney who had kept them together and Lawhiney who had chosen every single goal they had ever pursued. The more Brandon thought about it, the more surprised he was at himself. He had been taking orders from a woman for the past few months without even noticing. Him: Brandon Milo, the mouse who had fought six rats single-handedly and once put a small cat to flight.

Brandon's expression grew darker and moodier. How many times had Lawhiney had come to him with some idea or scheme that she wanted him to propose to the others for her? Every time Lawhiney wanted the gang to do something dangerous, or something that benefited her and her alone, just where did she turn for support? To him, Brandon, that's who. And what did he get in return? More often than not, just a peck on the cheek and followed by a sultry voice that whispered in his ear "maybe next time…" or "You'll have to catch me first!" 

She had owed him more than that. Who else was there that she could turn to? Who else had supported her when no one else would? Then, as Brandon thought back and remembered times when each of the others _had indeed_ been the lone voice of support for one of Lawhiney's schemes, the questions in his mind slowly became "Which of the others had she turned to?" and "What had she given them in return?"

"Brandon? Are you okay?" 

Lorrie's wheezy voice grated across Brandon's nerves. The biker mouse looked up at the inventor but all Brandon could see was Lawhiney with the mole instead of him. The thought that Lawhiney had made a fool of him exploded in his brain. It was like a match head flaring behind each eye. 

Fine, Brandon thought, if that's the way it was between her and me I'm out of here. She can rot in jail once they work out who she really is. I don't care and I'm sure not going to sit around worrying about her like these other saps. 

He wanted to get up and walk out the door without looking back, right there and then, but something kept him sitting, his face frozen. He turned it around in his mind a couple of times and when he recognized it for what it was, he got the shock of his life. It was belief. Belief in Lawhiney and her ability to smooth talk her way out of trouble even from a hospital bed. 

Brandon didn't know for sure how she would do it but he found it easy to imagine her spinning some sob story to the Street Watch, the Museum Mice, the Rangers, or whatever group of big strong males with a weakness for teary big blue eyes wanted to listen to a hard luck tale. It would be a sob story about having made a few mistakes in her time, sure, but never having done anything really wrong until she was kidnapped, or blackmailed, or threatened by the bad guys who made her commit all those terrible crimes. 

Brandon ground his teeth. "Lorrie," he whispered, "did Lawhiney ever ask you to do her a favour? A special one that you couldn't mention to the rest of us?" 

The mole's eye bulged with fright. "No, Brandon, certainly not. I mean, sure, she asked for favours, we all ask each other for favours now and again. Shaka wants to hear me explain what makes an aeroplane stay up- again -and I tell him and if I want something heavy carried, you and Shaka help get it for me and Pierre wants whatever it is Pierre wants and we help him out. It's normal to ask your friends for favours." The mole's voice rose and fell with fear as he spoke. 

"Did she ever ask you to suggest something to the rest of us that she didn't want to suggest herself? Or agree with something she said even though the rest of us didn't agree?" 

The mole let out a sound more like a gasp than a laugh. "Of course not. I mean what kind of favour would that be? Just to agree to something?" 

Brandon jumped up and grabbed the mole by his shoulders. "I'll give you just one chance to tell me before I shake you until your teeth rattle, you second rate extra from a horror movie!"

"Yes, yes! She asked me to say that I thought going after the pearl was a good idea when I didn't! She knew you and Pierre didn't want to take it and Shaka always votes the way she tells him to and she needed my vote to make it three to two! And now you know and- and you'll do something terrible to me because it's my fault that we went there and she got hurt. Well, I don't care, do you hear? I deserve it, go ahead! Do your worst!"

Brandon let the mole go. Lorrie remained standing where he was, his chin high and his eyes closed as he waited for a punch that never came. Brandon looked across the room at Pierre. The rat's eyes met his and there was a long pause between them. Finally the rat nodded, once, just enough that he could deny it later and Brandon sank back down into his chair, laughing. 

Lorrie peaked at him to see what was so funny. 

Brandon continued laughing for a while and when he stopped he was wearing a smile as predatory as any cat's. "Well, don't we make a fine pack of jokers? If laughter is the best medicine, Lawhiney could probably cure every person in this place by telling everybody how she wrapped us all around her little finger." 

Shaka looked at all of them and blinked. "I don' ge' it." He gummed around his missing tooth. "Wha'sh sho funny? Lawhiney w'apsh eve'yone a'ound her pinkie. 'Atsh what she doesh." 

Pierre leaned forward, watching Brandon's expression carefully. "What's our next move, Brandon? Do we just leave her? Get out of town?"

"No, I don't think so. I don't think it would sit right. It wouldn't sit right with any of us." Brandon answered, noting that the cockney rat's pretend French accent had returned. 

"Then what's your plan?"

"First off, Lorrie takes Shaka Baka to a dentist. He's the only one out of all of us that the Rangers might recognize and, besides, his spluttering is starting to get on my nerves. Then we find out when Lawhiney, or rather Gadget, is getting out of here. Lorrie, when me and Pierre finish scouting this place and figure out an escape route, we're probably going to need some kind of transport again. I hear the Rangers have got a second plane but I don't think we can get that lucky twice, even with them distracted."

"Why not? They don't even know the first one was stolen." Lorrie suggested.

"No, it's too risky. We aren't that lucky. Raid a toy store if you have to. I don't care if it's balsawood and paper, so long as it's got power and it can fly; preferably fly fast and further than the city limits. Once Pierre and I have a plan for getting her out of here tell you where and when to meet us with in the aeroplane."

"But Brandon, she's sick!" Lorrie objected, fretfully. "We can't just wheel her out in a hospital bed!" 

"Ah, we won't do anything until the Doctor's say she's ready to leave. Best bet is to wait until she's being pushed out of here in a wheel chair and then sorta divert her. Pierre and me will work out the details, won't we Pierre?" Brandon smiled coldly at Pierre. "I'm looking forward to spending some quality time with Lawhiney again… I want to let her know how I really feel about her."

58

Gadget didn't want to sleep. 

It was late afternoon. Sleep now meant that she would be awake later, after lights out. Sometimes the other patients made noises after lights out; mostly sleeping noises but one babbled in her sleep, about the things the voices of all her fathers had made her do, and one night someone had started screaming about the experiments the humans had done on her. The cells were close together and mice have sensitive hearing. 

Despite the insulation of the bubble wrap Gadget had already heard more than she wanted to from the other inmates on her cellblock. 

Unfortunately Gadget had eaten all her food pellets like a good little nutcase to keep the orderlies happy and there had been more of them than usual. By the time she drank the water too, she realised that she was as full as she had ever been after one of Monty's spreads and that the extra food was making her sleepy along with the boredom. 

So she slept. 

First came the dark behind her eyelids, along with the flashes of black with hints of red, green and blue that you get if your eyes have been closed too long. Her thoughts drifted and, because these were Gadget's thoughts, they were like super-tankers filled with oil, looking for a reef to break them and thunderstorm to turn the sky to flame.

Gadget never remembered her dreams, except the ones about her father and, more rarely, the ones about her mother. In this dream she found neither, but she remembered it nonetheless… 

Gadget found herself at the centre of a bright light, which was only to be expected - she was centre stage and what a crowd had packed into the club to see her tonight! For a moment, she felt like she was glued to the spot and all she could do was squint into the half-light of the club floor and try to guess how many people were there. 

There was Baloo, with some strange, tall guy who was wearing a moustache that looked too old for the rest of his small head, even in the bad light at the back of the room. Sitting across the room from them was a bright blue hedgehog with his feet up on the table. He was wearing neon red running shoes but Gadget didn't know him. Next to him was a character who wore a dark trench coat and a fedora the same colour as Chip's but all Gadget could see of his face were the long fangs that seemed hang from his mouth all the way down to his collar bones. 

Gadget, vaguely aware that she was dreaming, decided that the hedgehog's friend wasn't Chip. She had a strong feeling Chip was somewhere else. 

In the front row were a crowd of baying male humans with wide, glazed eyes. Behind them she recognized characters from Dale's favourite cartoon, Animaniacs. Slappy Squirrel gave Gadget a quick smile, from her table for one. Next to that table the Warner Bothers were easily recognizable behind false beards. Gadget had an uncomfortable feeling their sister, Dot, was far closer to hand than a girl of her age should be. 

Everybody was waiting for Gadget to do something and she suspected it wasn't to explain the laws of thermodynamics. From somewhere, music started. The first few bars of the brassy melody brought back memories and she knew where she was at last. Glancing down she confirmed it: She was wearing a parody of her normal blue engineer's jumpsuit, but it was far more revealing than some of the dresses she had worn- the neck line plunged to the waist and Velcro fastenings where the costume could break apart and be removed entirely tickled her neck and arms. 

Gadget peered out at the crowd nervously… "Isn't this the part where I normally wake up?" She worried. 

"Dance, Gadget! Dance!" a friendly voice urged her from the wings. 

And then came Ratigan. "Oh yes," the rat's deep voice purred from the shadows of the wings, "Dance, Gadget. Dance." 

"You!" Gadget yelped. 

"You can't keep your public waiting forever." Ratigan chuckled. "They'll hate you if you don't give them the song and dance they were expecting."

"I'll hate myself if I give them the song and dance they want!" Gadget hissed back. "I can't do it!" 

Ratigan sighed and made a gesture with one hand. The music stopped dead and the big, mirrored ball in the centre of the ceiling stopped turning. Gadget squinted into the darkness and saw that the audience were caught between one moment and the next, like the people in a photograph. The next thing Gadget knew, Ratigan was up on stage alongside her, sniffing into a handkerchief and giving her the kind of long disappointed look that primary school teachers gave to usually well-behaved pupils who have just been caught writing on the walls. 

"Oh, Gadget. I'm afraid you don't really understand your own heart, do you?" 

"Sure I do! It's right here and beats at about-"

"Oh no. Spare me the biology lesson. I'm not talking about some bloody pump in your chest. I'm talking about your innermost feelings and desires. Your hopes and dreams." Ratigan leaned closer, his eyes large and shining. "The things that make you who you really are." 

"I don't think I want to talk about those." Gadget said doubtfully. "I mean they're called innermost feelings for a reason. They're buried pretty far inside and if something's buried that deep, it's usually for a good reason."

"Come now, my dear, surely that's not an answer worthy of a Rescue Ranger? It's so… uncourageous, why it practically borders on cowardly." Ratigan let the last word drip from his mouth like treacle. 

Gadget folded her arms and glared silently back at him. 

"After all-" the rat went on "-it's not as if someone with the nerve to face down Fat Cat has anything to fear from her own feelings, is it? A feeling isn't as real as a cat's claw and if it does hurt you, it won't damage you the way that tooth and claw will." 

"True," Gadget allowed "but hurt feelings still hurt all the same." 

"That may be the case but, you have to admit, any hurt feeling a person might experience can be dealt with by the simple application of reason. The rational mind takes place over the emotional one, does it not?" 

"Yes, of course." 

"Excellent. And as a rational person, you know adage "'first, know thyself'"." 

"The ancient Greeks thought that before you could observe the world and work out how it worked, you had to know who was doing the observing. It's a fair assumption." 

"Then, if only as a mouse of science, you should owe it to yourself to confront your inner-self."

"I certainly can't reject your argument but I still don't know if I want to go messing about in my Id. Especially not on the say so of someone I'm only dreaming about." 

"You, ah ha, know you're dreaming?" Ratigan frowned at her, rubbing his chin worriedly. 

"Sure! I have this dream all the time!" 

"Really?" Ratigan eyed her up and down, surreptitiously. His expression was bewildered. 

"Usually I wake up when the music starts playing but, the first time I had the dream, I knew I was up here to do something important and I couldn't remember what so I just made a speech explaining that I'd forgotten what I was supposed to do and apologising. Then, suddenly, when I looked down-" Gadget caught herself just in time.

"Yes?" Ratigan smiled broadly.

"Uh, I woke up. That's all. Yeah, I just woke up." Gadget didn't look at him until the end of the sentence and, then, it was as though she were checking to see whether or not he was buying it. 

Ratigan let the silence scuttle back and forth between them like a cockroach. 

Gadget didn't know why Ratigan wasn't talking. She had talked last, which meant that it was his turn. She was careful to keep track of things like that; as a child, her father had spoken to her several times about how important it was to let other people have their turn to speak. Monty always wanted to know if her father had mentioned the importance of listening to what they had to say while it was their turn. As it happened, her father hadn't but Gadget didn't see what that had to do with anything. 

"What exactly would I have to do to confront my innermost feelings?" she asked.

"Why nothing, my dear, almost nothing."  Ratigan purred, towering over her. 

Gadget took a step back and was alarmed to feel something flat and solid at her back. Ratigan's huge form cut off her view of the rest of the room, except for the spotlight, which seemed to be coming closer- or was the room shrinking? 

"Just lie back and let me do all the work…" Ratigan insinuated. 

Gadget was about to object when she realised the thing behind her was a hospital surgical trolley and that Ratigan's words were meant literally. Then next thing she knew, she was flat on her back, dressed in surgical gowns with a blazing operating room light overhead. 

Gadget gulped, hard. She was prepped for surgery and she had a feeling Ratigan was going to start playing Doctor any second. When she tried to get up, she found she was strapped to the table. She wondered how Ratigan had managed to do that without her noticing. 

"Ah, now where do we begin?" Ratigan hummed, holding up a copy of "Watson's Surgery for Beginners" with one hand as he adjusted a pair of half-moon reading glasses with the other. "Ah, yes. First the anaesthetic gas to send you to sleep. But wait! You're already asleep… so we'll just skip that part and move onto the next one. The first incision." Ratigan stood with his profile to Gadget and smiled broadly as he held up a scalpel. His eyes glittered until he turned them from her face to the blade and saw how small it was- barely the length of a finger! Ratigan's face fell. He threw the blade carelessly over his shoulder. 

"Um, Professor Ratigan, what exactly is it you're hoping to achieve?" 

Ratigan removed his top hat and began fishing around in it. "Why, I want to make you all better, my dear." He said, pulling a rusty switchblade out of the hat. "I want to reach inside and pull out all the bits that are making you hurt." 

"But I thought you said you believed me? That you know I'm Gadget Hackwrench?"

"I said hurt, not delude. Hmm. No, I don't think so." He discarded the rusty switchblade and tried again. This time he found a bloody carving knife that seemed too big to have been inside the hat to begin with. "Ha, hardly big enough for a heart the size of Gadget Hackwrench's! Still, we're getting there." 

"Professor Ratigan, I'd like to thank you for your attention but I'm choosing to refuse medical treatment at this time!" Gadget tried. 

"Refuse? Why, of course, who wouldn't refuse to be treated with such shoddy, inadequate implements. You deserve something far more- ah, here it is!" Ratigan held up a huge, shining crescent of steel. 

Gadget blinked. She recognized the weapon; it was an alien melee weapon from one of the human's science fiction TV shows that Dale loved so much. The show was Deep Space something-or-other. What was it called? A bat-laugh? "Please," she said, "don't even touch me with that thing." 

"Thing? What thing? You mean the carving knife? Oh, I already put that away."

"No, I mean that thing. The one in your hand." 

Ratigan looked stupidly at his top hat, from which he had (impossibly) produced the bat'leth then looked back at Gadget. "Why, of course not, Miss Hackwrench. I'd never do a thing like that." And then, still looking at her out of the corner of his eye to watch her expression, Ratigan placed the top hat on his head. "It wouldn't look nearly as good on you."

"NO!" Gadget yelped. "Not that hand!" But it was too late, Ratigan was already pulling a surgical mask over her face and her voice was fading to a low mumble behind the fabric. The logical part of Gadget's mind turned over in its sleep – a thin cotton surgical mask shouldn't muffle her voice that much! 

"Now, we wouldn't want you to see anything that would give you nightmares after the operation, now, would we? Hmm?" Ratigan leered at her. 

Gadget frowned and wondered if he was planning to blindfold her as well. Instead he put up a surgical tent, a sheet that hung across the table to block Gadget's view of the rest of her body. In a real operation, it was supposed to stop the patient from getting upset. In these circumstances it only served to add to Gadget's anxiety. 

"Ah ha! Now, ever so gently but firmly, we make the first incision…" Ratigan hummed to himself. 

"Mmfffph!" Gadget objected strongly.

Ratigan sliced downwards with all his strength. Gadget squealed in panic. 

"There we go! All done." Ratigan told her cheerfully. 

Gadget blinked in surprise. She hadn't felt a thing. Had Ratigan really cut her? Or was this just another step in the macabre game he was playing? Then he stepped into sight holding the blade high. Gadget's felt queasy when she saw blood along the edge. 

Ratigan discarded the weapon and made a show of rolling up his sleeve. "Here we go! We'll soon see what makes Gadget Hackwrench tick!" he declared with a wicked snarl. 

To Gadget's horror, the mad professor put his arm into her chest, right up to his elbow. 

Gadget almost fainted. Then she realised that since she was dreaming she was technically already unconscious, which meant fainting was impossible. She was just double-checking her logic to make sure fainting wasn't a possible way out, when Ratigan's arm disappeared up to his shoulder. That meant that there was more arm in her chest than there was room inside her chest for arm, Gadget was sure. Before she could think it through, the Professor had removed his arm along with a ragged and badly singed cuddly toy in the shape of a little mouse-girl. 

Gadget stared at the toy, all her fears forgotten. The rational part of her was sure now that Professor was simply performing some elaborate conjuring trick with her in the role of the magician's assistant. It certainly fit in with dreaming she was on stage and it explained why she hadn't felt any pain when Ratigan had "cut" her. But the cold-blooded, logical part of her wasn't running this show and the words that came out of her mouth came straight from the part of her that was: her heart. 

"Widget! My little dolly! Give! Give!" 

Ratigan smiled dryly. Gadget blinked rapidly and tried to look at her own mouth to see if it had actually said that. 

"Ah ha. I'm sorry, I meant: that's the doll I had when I was a little girl. Can I have it back, please?" 

"Widget." Ratigan spun the word out the same way a wine taster makes the most of a mouthful of wine. 

"Daddy- I mean, my father, Gewgaw, gave her to me when I was five. I haven't seen her since I was eight." 

"Oh? How endearing. But if you're so fond of little "'Widget'", one wonders why you ever parted with her?" Ratigan let the question dangle like the doll. 

Gadget said nothing. For three seconds. 

"Okay, I didn't exactly part with her." 

"No? What then?"

"Well, there was this science fair." Gadget began and stopped. 

"Go on."

"The mayor and the newspapers were going to be there and I wanted to win. So my father could be proud of me. I decided that I was going to build a working aeroplane and land it at the science fair. But my teacher said that I should start with something smaller, a scale model. I wanted it to be a working model. With Widget as the pilot."

"I'm starting to get the picture."

Gadget could barely bring herself to look at Ratigan or the doll. "I was just testing it!" She cried plaintively, trying not to hear the childish note in her voice. 

"And what happened?" 

"Well, I never quite worked out whether it was the insulation between the rocket engine and the fuel tank being too thin, or the poor quality of the metal I used in the combustion chamber, or perhaps a leak in the fuel line, or it could just have been an anomaly-"

"What happened, Gadget?" Ratigan insisted like a stern schoolteacher. 

"It blew up." Gadget said quietly. "It took off okay and it flew, for a while, it really did. I was jumping up and down because I was so happy and then it just… burst like a balloon." 

"And what of poor little Widget?" Ratigan asked with a long face. 

"I spent hours looking for her. Eventually I found an… arm. I was so horrified that I ran and hid. Daddy found me when it got dark." 

"What kind of child would blow up her own doll?" Ratigan 

"Don't Say That! That's what He said! I heard him talking to Unca' Monty and it's not fair! I didn't mean to!" Gadget was shocked to hear herself nearing tears. 

"I don't think you really deserve to have little Widget back, do you? After all, put yourself in my position. If I gave her back to you and you blew her up again, how would I feel? Hmmm?" Ratigan looked down his nose at her. 

Gadget looked back at him, her lower lip trembling. She knew that crying just to get her own way was wrong; she would feel guilty if she did. On the other hand, Ratigan's stern, superior attitude was crumbling. There was a frown on his face and an anxious glint in his eye. Like most males, it looked like he didn't know how to deal with the threat of a beautiful woman's tears. It was a Mexican-stand-off, with emotions instead of guns. 

With an effort of will, Gadget forced her lower lip to behave itself. In return, Ratigan dropped Widget into in a kidney dish. Gadget's eyes remained on the doll, its pink button eyes locked with hers. Unheeded, Ratigan returned to his exploratory surgery. 

"I missed you." Gadget whispered. 

"Ah ha!" Ratigan cried. "Now this is really something!" 

Held high in his hands was a tiny cameo painting of Gewgaw Hackwrench: Gadget's father. 

Gadget allowed her curiosity to draw her eyes to the cameo. When she saw her father looking back at her from the tiny painting and the doll was forgotten. 

"Come on, Gadget. You can tell me what this is, surely?"

"Yes. It's my father." Gadget's tone was so absent minded, she could have understudied for someone who was in a hypnotic trance. 

"Really. I just took this out of your chest."

"That's where I keep all my most precious things. In the my… big chest."

"Your…" Ratigan almost choked, his eyes not watching Gadget's expression for once. 

"In my room, at Rescue Ranger Head Quarters. The one that great-grandfather Mac Trench stole from the Pi-Rats of Greece. It can only be opened by someone who can calculate the square root of Pi to the right number of decimal places in ancient Greek."

"In other words, it can only be opened by someone who's a real smart-something-other." Ratigan snarled. "Let's see what else I can find."

Ratigan dropped the picture of Gadget's father next to Widget the doll. Gadget's eye contact locked with the painting of her father, not the doll, and maybe that was the way it should have been, if not the way that her father would have wanted it. 

"I've found a locket." Ratigan sounded surprised. 

"I know." Gadget said.

"Yes, obviously you know. It's your… chest I just pulled it out of, after all. It's gold. And it's heart shaped." Ratigan smiled, genuinely for once. "Why Gadget. I believe I'll find a picture of your true love if I open it." Ratigan began to open the locket at once – but it refused to open. He frowned intensely. After several minutes fiddling, his temper snapped. "I can't open it!" he snarled. 

"That means you don't really want to see what's in it." 

"What? Of course I do!" Ratigan berated her. 

"Why?" 

"To see who you love, of course!" 

"Why?" Gadget asked quietly, openly staring at him. 

"In case it's-" Ratigan cut himself off before he could finish the sentence and make a complete fool of himself. 

"In case it's you?" she asked in a sad, gentle voice like a mother would use with a mistaken child. 

Ratigan was mortified. He covered it with fury. "Is that what you think of me? That all I want is your body? You pitiful little fool, that's the last thing I'm interested in."

"It is?" Gadget asked plaintively.

"Yes, but first I have to get you to see the world the way it really is, instead of through those rose tinted welding goggles." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Every day, every second of your life, your eyes see things that might tarnish this golden little heart of yours, so your mind protects it by pretending they aren't there." Ratigan was in control again. He chuckled to himself before continuing. "Everyone does it but most people haven't the wit to take it to the same lengths as you do. Sooner or later they see something that they can't shut out and if they go on pretending things are the same, the memory calls them a liar every time the look in the mirror." 

"That's not true."

"Oh, but it is, Miss Hackwrench. Oh, but it is." Ratigan breathed in a whisper. "Only your brain is so much quicker than everyone else's, it's almost impossible for you to see anything that your brain can't blot out, erase or hide from, one way or another."

"I don't hide from reality."

"Of course not. You're like a conjuror misdirecting his audience- whenever you see something you don't like, you just focus on the parts of reality that you like and understand. Like science or machinery. The parts you can control." 

A traitorous part of Gadget's brain suggested that, if Ratigan believed that last point, he had never seen her inventions in action. She was angrier at the thought than Ratigan when she snapped: "Name one thing that I've pretended not to see!" 

"The way you make Chip and Dale tear their friendship and each other apart, just to get you to chose one of them." 

"That's not true!"

"You pretend not to watch them fight every day." 

"I DON'T watch them fight!" Gadget shouted.

"You pretend that they don't fight over you."

"They fight over everything! They argue over what acorns taste like! They argue over-"

"You! They argue over you!"

"YES! They argue over me! Just like everything else! I'm like the biggest acorn on the pile to them, nothing but another excuse for them to fight!"

"And you let them fight!"

Gadget opened her mouth to deny it; when she realised she couldn't, truthfully, she saw red.

"Just a darn minute!" She screamed. "Do you think I like that?!" Gadget sat bolt upright. There was a tearing sound as the restraint straps gave way. "I didn't ask them to fight over me! I never wanted them to hurt each other. And it is NOT MY FAULT!"

Ratigan gaped in amazement. Where had this tiny thing found the strength to break free of those straps? And why had she found it now, instead of when he was threatening her with being cut open? 

Gadget grabbed him by the front of his shirt as she jumped clear of the operating table. She was surprisingly strong and her time with the rangers had taught her how to take care of herself in a fight. Before Ratigan had recovered from the surprise, Gadget had used her small frame and knowledge of leverage to send him flying over her shoulder and crashing down on the operating table. 

Gadget wasted no time. She gripped the side of the operating table and began running, accelerating it to a bone rattling pace. The table jumped from the end of the stage with a bang – all Ratigan could do was hang on for dear life, his eyes popping. Ratigan, table and Gadget, all hit the swing doors to the dressing rooms with a crash. 

They tore through the dressing room without slowing. Minnie Mouse shrieked as she tried to cover herself. Babs Bunny hid behind a copy of Vanity Fair as she scrambled out of the surgical table's path.  Ratigan didn't have a chance for any sight seeing before Gadget ploughed the table into a rack of costumes in the centre of the room. There was an explosion of sequins, silk and feathers that decorated the room with a dozen exotic costumes. Ratigan emerged from the other side with a pink bonnet on his head and a yellow dress over his Victorian evening suit. He was yowling all the way to the brick wall on the far side of the room.

Gadget stood back and enjoyed her handiwork as the operating table and Ratigan, hat and all, made a perfect silhouette hole in the wall the way people only can in dreams and cartoons. From the other side came the sound of a long, drawn out, falling scream followed by a distinct whiff of brimstone. 

Gadget clapped her hands together to rid them of any trace left by Ratigan's shirt. "That's that." She declared. "I'm ready to wake up now." 

59

Ratigan shredded the dress with a scowl. The angry flush on his face was visible even through his course grey fur as he used his claws to shred the yellow dress. Everything around him was either bright red or black. The shapes the black made on the red were not nice. In fact, as Ratigan had thought when he had first seen them, they were as far away from nice as you could get. 

Stumbling through the dark, downward sloping tunnel, Ratigan muttered curses to himself. "Evil minded little… That's the last time I'll have dealings with her. Who would have thought she had so much strength in her?" 

"Things not go according to plan?" An all too familiar voice wheezed in a heavy accent. 

Ratigan froze. A large chair with a broad back had been placed in an alcove a little distance from the gateway at the end of the tunnel. That was good. It meant that Ratigan didn't have to worry about going _through_ the gate at the end of the tunnel to talk to the person who was in the chair. Ratigan didn't want to go through the gate. He had a very good reason not to. 

A cigar held in a black and gold cigar-holder poked out from behind the back of the chair. It was held by the thumb and "index finger" of a bat's wing. 

"Fidget." Ratigan said. 

A misshapen head, with huge tattered ears emerged from behind the chair. "What was that you called me?"

Ratigan winced. "Ah ha. I meant ""Boss"", of course." He answered in a honeyed voice. 

Fidget stared at him with beady yellow eyes. "I might have worked for you once-upon-a-time but just remember, I've got seniority over you now." The bat rasped. "Thanks to you, if I recall." He added. 

"How could I forget?" Ratigan snarled to himself. 

Fidget blew a smoke ring into Ratigan's face. Like all bats, Fidget had excellent hearing. Ratigan pretended not to know this, and Fidget pretended not to hear. Somewhere, a tally of every muttered snide comment and caustic retort was being kept. "So, like I said, things didn't go according to plan." 

Ratigan nodded gloomily. 

Fidget allowed ash to drop from the end of his cigar. "Why didn't things go according to plan?"

Ratigan took a deep breath and fixed a desperate smile in place. "She… I… You see… Well, that is to say; I may have, or rather she has-" 

"Kicked your tail all the way back to Dante's gateway?" Fidget suggested helpfully. 

"Er, yes." Ratigan admitted. 

Fidget laughed. "Ratigan got his tail kicked by a little mouse girl. Aw, ain't that sweet. I got to see this." 

Ratigan's face became long and grim. "There's nothing to laugh at. It's over and done with now, and I'm not going back, so there's no way for you to see anything of the kind." 

Fidget rummaged down the side of the chair he was sitting in and brought out a flat black object covered in buttons. "Why were all the best things invented after I died?" Fidget complained. He pushed a button and a television of the far side of the alcove flickered into life. 

Ratigan's jaw dropped, as the television replayed Gadget's abortive dance routine, his own abysmal magic routine and Gadget's final retribution, all to the accompaniment of Fidget's rising laughter.  

"Ho oh! That's rich, that's hysterical. You know what I'm going to do with this Ratigan?" 

"I've got a feeling you're going to tell me." 

"I'm going to put it up on a great big screen and show it to everybody. I'm even going to send a copy all the way up to the pearly gates and ask if Basil wants to see." Fidget looked at him and grinned. "I'm going to record every laugh, snicker and giggle. And then I'm going to play all their laughter back to you, every moment you aren't doing something profitable for meeeeeeeee." Fidget drew the last word out into a throaty, purr of contentment.

Ratigan didn't hide his anger. "Just because you've got me under you thumb for now, don't think it's going to be that way forever, you insidious little pipsqueak!"

"What was that?" Fidget stood on the seat of the chair and turned to face Ratigan. "Just remember, anytime you want to quit working for me, you can go straight back to the sulphur pits where I found you. You want me to FIRE you?" Fidget's eyes lit up with the word FIRE… it had special meaning around this place. 

Ratigan blanched. "No, not that. I'm sorry. Anything but that." 

"Heh. Anything?"

The big rat groaned and began massaging his temples. "Well, that depends what you have in mind…"

"I want you to go back up there and do what you're supposed to." 

"WHAT?" Ratigan eyes flashed red. "But- That's- You-" Finally, he clenched his fists, looked straight up and roared with frustration. "I can't do that! In case you didn't notice, she just banished me! I can't go back. It's against the rules." 

"She banished you from her dreams, the waking world's a whole other ball game from the dreamlands. If you don't know that by now, it's high time you learned. Go see her when she's awake." 

"You mean in the flesh?"

Fidget chuckled. "Sure, her flesh, that is. If you ask me, you still got the better end of the deal." 

"What if she banishes me again?"

"Strike out again and you can start looking for another job to pay for your air conditioning. Unless you like it hot, that is. Real hot." 

"How am I going to get her hooked? I tell you, Fidget, she's just not interested. She's in a mental ward, unjustly imprisoned, reviled, hated and feared, cut off from all who could offer comfort and alone with the knowledge that everything she loves is at the mercy of a depraved impostor. I give her a class four nightmare and hit her with the best shot I've got and all it does is make her angry." 

Fidget laughed. "Don't try that again." 

"I wasn't trying to make her angry, blast you!"

"You weren't? Oh, sorry. She's got quite a temper on her, ain't she?"

"Yes, she has." Slowly, Ratigan's expression brightened. "Yes, she has, hasn't she?" His frown became a smile. His smile became a grin. His eyes shone with reflected hellfire. "Yes, yes, yes! That's it! Fidget, you are _still_ a delightful little maniac!"


	11. Express Elevator to Hell

**_Disclaimer_**

_In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone…  except a certain kind of lawyer._

**Chapter Eleven**

**Express Elevator Ride to Hell**

60

Lawhiney was scowling in her sleep. 

Her guide had been watching her for ten minutes. His own expression was relaxed and neutral, apart from a slight frown that marked his genuine concern for his charge. He had threatened her with a nightmare for her ill behaviour before but this one was not of his making. 

After everything she's done and been through, she's certainly owed a few nightmares, he thought and pursed his lips. If it was a natural nightmare, he could help her, though that would probably just be storing up trouble for later. It would probably be counter-productive as well. On the other hand, if it wasn't a natural nightmare, if someone was trying to get to her- and someone from the other side should have shown up to sink their hooks into her by now –then he had a duty to intercede. 

Lawhiney tossed her head, her face twitching into an expression of terror. A tiny moan escaped her lips. 

Her guide shook his head, a ruthful half-smile on his face. If the powers that be complained, he had an excuse, and if it turned out to be storing up trouble for later then it would be a later when she was stronger and he would be there for her. He stretched out his hand as if to brush the hair away from her forehead. 

Lawhiney's eyes snapped open. It wasn't long before they fixed the guide with an accusing stare. 

"How dare you!" she hissed. 

The guide looked from her to his hand, which he slowly withdrew. "I don't know what you mean." He said, awkwardly, all too aware of what she suspected but with no idea how he could convince her she was wrong. 

"I thought we had an understanding!" 

"I don't know what you're talking about!" The guide protested. He was horrified to realise that he sounded guilty even though he hadn't done anything wrong. "I was just trying to help, that's all."

"Help me come round to your way of thinking, that is!"

"Well- no, I didn't cause your nightmare!"

"Then how do you know I was having a nightmare?"

"Well, because…" the guide stopped, reluctant to admit that he had been watching her sleep. 

"You liar! You interfered while I was sleeping!" 

"I did not! It was obvious you were having a bad dream. I was just about to see if I could help you, that's all!"

Lawhiney looked at him sternly. "Why should I believe you?"

"Why? Well, because I'm not the one who made a living out of lying to everyone around her for most of her life, how about that?" he shouted.

"Well, maybe you're a fast learner!" Lawhiney turned over and pulled the blankets over her head.

"A fast learner!?" 

"Yeah- maybe I'm a bad influence on you." Lawhiney's taunt was slightly muffled. 

"You could be a bad influence on anyone!" The guide complained. "I came here to give you a dire warning and the only thing that you can do is pick a fight with me. Well that's fine with me-" he turned to leave "-if you don't want to know, you can just take your chances. And you've been offered plenty of them." 

"What warning? Give my self up and repent my sins, this is my last chance to come on out with my paws up?"

The guide looked back at her. I've failed, he thought, and there's nothing I can do for her. Except, perhaps, leave. "Yeah, something like that. Okay, fine, there's nothing I can tell you. I give up. You're on your own." 

Lawhiney's head poked out from under the blanket. "You mean that? I thought I was stuck with you?"

"Until the day you die… or you don't need me any more." 

"And I don't need you any more, huh?"

"You don't need me when you've repented your sins and established a good life for yourself."

Lawhiney did a quick stock check on the repentance and good life front and came up empty. Mentally, she chalked a line through that option. She didn't like the one that was left. "Hey, wait up!" she yowled and discarded the blankets. "Didn't you mention duty? Weren't you sent to watch over me by the Big Mouse Upstairs Himself?" 

"No, we call him the Big Fella Upstairs; the Big Mouse lives in Florida." 

"Well, whatever, isn't he going to be awfully annoyed with you if you show up back on his doorstep early?"

"I won't be early. I have to stay with you until the day you die but no-one said I had to stay with you to the last second." The guide said with his back turned.

"Wait!" Lawhiney cried.

"Wait? You're the one who's waited!" The guide turned to face her, enlarged by his anger to the point where he towered over Lawhiney like Saint Peter. As he thundered at her, his presence seemed to draw all the light and colour out of the room, until his furious expression was the only thing Lawhiney could see. "You're waiting for someone to find you out before you tell the truth; you're waiting until you've made your getaway and left your crimes behind you before you start to lead an honest life; you're waiting for everything to get straightened out before you decided to straighten everything out." 

The guide looked at her, exasperated. "Well, it's not going to happen, Laurel. You're out of time. Unless you confess everything to the next person you see, then the only way I can see you getting out of this place is in a pencil case!" 

Animal ambulance crews and coroners used pencil cases as body bags. Lawhiney didn't need the reference explained. She'd never killed anybody but she had been to rough places and seen the results of random violence being taken quietly away.

"Wait." Lawhiney said. 

The guide drew further away from her, backing into the shadows until she seemed to be alone in the dark. 

"Wait." She cried again. "I don't want to be alone!" 

The door to her private room opened and light exploded back into her eyes. Sitting up and blinking, she was left wondering if it had all been a dream. Standing in the doorway was Doctor Bell, holding a small bundle in his arms. 

"Are you alright, Miss Hackwrench?" 

"What? Oh, Doctor! I- yes, I'm fine. I was just feeling a little… isolated. And depressed, I guess."

"Hmmm. Well, people often feel down while they're convalescent." Doctor Bell told her as took her pulse. "Your heart's racing. Are you sure that you're feeling down? I could swear you've just run a foot race."

"I got a little worked up about it." 

"Perhaps this wasn't a good time." 

Lawhiney held him by the arm to stop him leaving. He had just spent over a week putting her body back together, so he had something invested in keeping her in one piece, she thought. She could trust him, more so than the Rangers, who might well throttle her if they found out the truth. "A good time for what?" Reading his eyes, she noticed the bundle in his hands. Her face lit up. "You brought me my things!"

"Uh, yes. I've consulted with the hospital board and they think it would probably be in your best interests to return home as soon as you're well enough. You've made a remarkable recovery. In fact, you're in better shape than anyone I've ever heard of, considering the fall you took." 

Lawhiney's eyes glazed. The next thing she knew, the doctor was holding her by the shoulders and she was gasping for air. 

"What happened?" she asked as the doctor pressed a cup of water on her.

"Soon find out." Doctor Bell replied. He shone a light in each of her eyes and began asking questions. "Do you remember anything of what just happened?"

"Um, no. We were talking. You mentioned the hospital board. Then you were holding me."

"What did it feel like? Dizzy?"

"Yes. Like I was… falling."

"Hmm. You've already been diagnosed with selective amnesia. You could have post-traumatic stress, as well. Think back to the accident; do you remember anything more than you did a moment ago?"

Lawhiney shook her head. "I'm not sure. I remember falling, free of the Ranger plane. I wasn't wearing a safety belt and I think the impact against the museum wall threw me out of the pilot's seat. I was facing the sky and I could see the Ranger plane scraping down against the brickwork above me. As it slid down the wall, the propellers were still moving and they were pushing it sideways across the wall, so at one point it was directly above me. I thought it was going to land on top of me and squash me."

"That's a lot more than you said you could remember when we asked you before."

Lawhiney looked away. "I… lied, then." She said weakly. 

"I think it's more likely you just regained a part of your memory. Think back, are you sure you remembered falling before now?"

"No, you don't understand, I-" Lawhiney broke off, as part of her mind interrupted her thoughts. "Actually, no. I don't think I remembered this at all until now."

"There you are; you're being much too hard on yourself." Doctor Bell smiled at her, kindly. "The Rangers are planning to take you home in a few hours. I was hoping to give you back your things as you wanted but, in light of your flashback, I think that you would be better off without them. I can give them to Chip until you're ready for them."

Lawhiney had a sudden vision of Chip going through her things- "Say, I never knew Gadget wore this kind of fancy underwear- hey! What's this? An I.D. card in the name of…?" -she pounced on the Doctor quickly enough to bring a sudden pain to her side. 

"I want them now, Doctor." 

"Now? But, oh, Miss Hackwrench, I'm not sure that's wise." Doctor Bell objected as he tried to pull away.

"I insist!"

Doctor Bell looked into her eyes and weakened. "Oh, very well. But I want you to look at them with me here. And you'll stop the moment you feel unwell." He passed the bundle to her and she wasted no time in tearing it open. 

She quickly discarded the tattered and bloody clothes that someone had thoughtfully wrapped in plastic. She could hardly suppress a shudder as she did so. "Could you please burn them?" She asked, shivering. 

Doctor Bell nodded, taking the clothes. 

Lawhiney brought out the few items that she had had on her when they crashed. The first was a compact made from a pair of tiny human buttons. The second was a switchblade. "Ha, ha. I, uh, confiscated it from some kid in the park." Lawhiney excused. The third item was the helium breather that Lorrie had made for her. Lawhiney shook it to check how full it was. It seemed to be empty. The broken valve was the reason, she suspected. The canister also matched the most uncomfortable bruise on her back. 

"Hmm." She became aware of Doctor Bell looking at the cylinder in puzzlement. "New invention I was testing. Didn't work. Could you dispose of it safely for me?" She smiled, dazzlingly. 

"Sure." 

A few minutes later, Doctor Bell was making his way down a hospital corridor with half of the bundle he had taken to Gadget Hackwrench still under his arm. She had seemed very self-controlled, he thought and he worried about what had been going on behind the façade she had shown him. She had kept three or four personal possessions and everything she asked him to destroy had been damaged in the crash. All in all, a good sign, he thought. She wasn't afraid to hang on to something that was associated with a bad memory and she hadn't kept anything that had been damaged just to prove that she could stand to have it around. But there had definitely been something false about her manner, he mused. 

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't notice the scruffy orderly mouse who was propping up the reception desk. If he had, Doctor Bell might have noticed that the mouse was wearing his name tag upside-down and that the name tag belonged to someone named Dorothy, which wasn't the name of the person buttering up the duty nurse with a rakish, breezy charm. "Just checking, so that I don't get the wrong time to show up with the wheelchair." 

"Well, I'm not sure I should. I don't know you and Sister Fitzgibbon is the one who normally…" The duty nurse fluttered. 

"Aw, com' on. You don't want to make me suck up to Sister Fitzgibbon just so I can do my job, now, do you?" the orderly wheedled. 

"Hmmm. Why should I?"

"Make it worth your while?"

The duty nurse, a brown mouse with white patches that emphasised her narrow face, looked at the new orderly and blinked slowly. "How?"

"Dinner?"

"Oh, please."

"Is that a yes? Come on, say that was short for yes please!"

"No, that was short for please spare me!" laughed the duty nurse. "They're taking Miss Hackwrench out of here at five. Here's the paperwork. Now, will you get out of here? Some of us have got to work instead of flirt all day, y'know?"

"Catch you later, sweetie." The orderly winked and made himself scarce. 

"Hey, Carol?" a young vole in a nurse's uniform asked. "Who's the stud?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him before. Guess he just started here." Carol, the duty nurse, said without looking up from her magazine.

The new orderly didn't go far. Brandon dodged into a stairwell around the corner from the nurse's station and took off the orderly's tunic, stuffing it under the T-shirt he had been wearing underneath. He ran to the sub-basement, where the rest of Lawhiney's Lawbreakers were still in hiding, and checked that no one had followed him before giving the secret knock on the storeroom door. 

"How did it go?" Pierre asked.

"Not bad." Brandon replied. "I know what room she's in, when she's leaving, they've given me the official paperwork to take her out of the hospital with, oh, and I think I might have a chance of getting a date with the duty nurse." 

"My mother always said that it was amazing how far good manners and a smile could take you in life." Pierre smiled, forgetting his accent.

"Wouldn't she be proud if she could see you now." Lorrie ribbed him. 

"Lorrie, I need you to get control of the elevator mechanism. I'll take care of the Rangers and opening the elevator doors but, once I hit the alarm button, I need you to get us out of there fast and stop all the other elevators from working." 

"Can do." Lorrie suddenly stopped grinning. "Oh, but wait, should I make the lift go up, or down?" 

"Depends. You have any luck finding that plane?" 

"Yeah, we got what you wanted."

"Then go up. Fast. But I want the lift there, waiting for me. Can you swing that?"

"I'll take out the call buttons on all the other floors." The mole laughed to himself, like a child.

"Yeah, sounds good. Do it. Just in case someone pushes the button while we're on the way up. Now we'll need a way to make sure no one else gets in the elevator." 

"I'll put an Out of Order sign on it."

"Good. By the time the Ranger's see me getting in, I plan to have a big enough lead for the doors to close before they can reach me." 

"I'll fix the doors too. They'll close fast, Brandon, you'll see. You'll see." 

62

Gadget was sitting up in bed, reading a cheap paperback detective story that a nurse had kindly given her. That was a good sign, Monty thought, though he didn't recall her ever showing an interest in that sort of thing before; it was more Chip's line but perhaps she was finally taking a break from all her hard work. When she looked up the brightly coloured muffler around her neck became visible for the first time and Monty raised his eyebrows in surprise. Gadget wasn't known for her fashion choices – even though she actually had a sharp eye for good clothes and could make herself look fit to start a riot in a monastery when she wanted. 

"Monty!" The invalid croaked. 

"Gadgetluv, what's wrong with your voice?" 

"'S nothing. Just a sore throat." She told him, holding out a hand. 

"Oh, poor Gadget." Monty put his arms round her and gave her a gentle hug, wary of any still mending bones. Gadget flinched at his touch. "What's up? Did I hurt you?"

"Uh, no. No, I'm fine. Just a twinge that's all." Gadget hugged back with surprising strength. "I've missed you."

"How so? Either me, or Dale, have been right next to you from the moment they told us you were here until the moment you woke up. And that was when the Doctors said you needed some rest – like you hadn't been out like a light for the best part of a week."

Gadget broke the hug and looked up at him, a careful, searching, look in her eyes. "I guess I just mean since I woke up, then." 

"Aw, hey. That's nice. Looking forward to getting home and trying some of my legendary cheese flapjacks?" 

"Mmm. Cheese flapjacks."

"Ahem." Doctor Bell had been waiting on them to finish their reunion. "I'm afraid we've got a list of things you should be eating and shouldn't be eating… until your insides have recovered from the injury. And you should definitely avoid even slight exertion. You have some stitches on the inside that mustn't be split and you shouldn't be out of bed for at least another week, except for bathroom visits, in my opinion." 

"Would Cheese flapjacks be on the list of shoulds or shouldn'ts, Doctor?" Monty enquired grimly.

"Dairy produce is on the should list but we recommend easily digestible foods for the next three or four weeks. Nothing you wouldn't feed to someone who's just had a serious stomach upset. So, no cheese."

The door to the private room opened after a careful knock. 

"Chip!" Gadget smiled nervously. 

"And Dale!" Dale objected, leaning out from behind Chip to wave hello and earning a grumpy look from the serious chipmunk.  

Gadget's smile widened. "Hiya, Dale!" she waved. 

Chip did a double take at Gadget, who immediately put her hand down and looked apprehensive. Before Chip had time to think, Dale had raced across the room and started to make a nuisance of him self by asking if he could see Gadget's operation scar. 

"I bet my appendix scar is bigger. I bet you the washing up for a whole two weeks!" 

"I'm not going to be up to doing the washing up for months!" Gadget chuckled. 

Chip closed his mouth. He'd been about to tell Dale to behave himself but something about Gadget's laugh stopped him. 

"You can pay up when you feel better. I don't mind." Dale offered. "Hey, I'll even make three weeks!"

Gadget smiled knowingly. She can tell he's up to some kind of a game, Chip thought approvingly. Normally she's too absent minded to notice. 

"Appendix scar?" She mused. "Maybe. If you agree to wait on me hand and foot while I'm getting better if you lose." 

"Sure."

"Okay." Gadget grinned. "It's a bet!"

Chip's jaw dropped.

"Turn your backs guys." Gadget prompted, giving Chip a knowing stare that was so unlike the Gadget that Chip knew all he could do was stare back at her. Everyone except Chip turned their backs, including, weirdly, Doctor Bell, who had probably done the stitches she was about show off. That left Chip facing Gadget and every other male in the room and they were all looking at him, expectantly. 

Chip couldn't believe Gadget was really going to do this.

Gadget shooed Chip with her hand. Chip blinked at her. Then realised that Monty was looking at him pointedly. Chip turned as if moved by an invisible hand. 

There was the rustle of bedclothes and hospital gowns. Chip realised that given that Gadget wore a one-piece swimming costume, he was about to see parts of her he had never seen before. Never even imagined seeing, he told himself sternly, even as his mind's provided optimistic images.

"Okay, you can turn around now." Gadget's voice told them, sounding a little rough from the sore throat she had complained about.

Chip turned. The mental image he had been trying to ignore shattered at the sight of a shaved belly, with neat stitches knotting their way from belly button to ribcage; scars clearly at least an inch long marring the body of the mouse he had deep feelings of… professional admiration for. 

Dale broke the painful silence. "Cool!" he whispered. "But it can't beat this!" he suddenly shouted and lifted up his Hawaiian shirt to display a full two inches of surgical stitching that wound their way around his belly as if someone had taken a saw to him and worked their way up his body in a spiral.  

Chip gaped. That hadn't been there when Dale had got out of bed this morning, he was sure!

"That's an appendix scar?!" yelped Doctor Bell. 

"Yep!" Dale showed off proudly. 

Zipper flew down from the ceiling and started to brush at the scar so quickly his hands were a blur. A cloud of black dust rose from Dale's fur. 

"Hey, what the-? That tickles!" Dale objected. But it was too late. 

Zipper's tickling reduced Dale to helpless laughter and left him half-sitting, half-laying on the floor. When Zipper retreated, Dale's scar had gone up in a cloud of dust, revealing a much smaller operation scar not much longer than his little finger. 

"Well, what do you know? His scar's just drawn on!" Monty realised. 

"So that's why you took so long in the bathroom this morning!" Chip scowled. "Dale Oakmont, you ought to be ashamed of yourself." 

Dale hung his head, his face contrite. "I'm a baaad chipmunk." He agreed. Turning his huge brown eyes towards Gadget, he asked: "Can you ever forgive me, Gadget?" 

Gadget's eyes twinkled. "I'll think about it. While you're waiting on me hand and foot for the next three weeks." 

She lets him get by her far too easily, Chip thought to himself. Maybe I can talk to her about that while she's recovering. No, wait – Chip thought – Dale's going to be waiting on her hand and foot for the next three weeks; I won't have a chance to speak to her privately. Dale's done this deliberately to monopolise her! But surely he isn't bright enough to think of that? No, it's just Dale messing everything up with his childish antics again! 

Chip just was about to let Dale know what he thought of these antics when he became aware of someone entering the room behind him. 

"Hey, did someone order a taxi?" Grinned a grey-furred mouse in an ill-fitting orderly's uniform. 

"Taxi?" Chip wondered, absently, his fist twitching for the feel of Dale's scalp. 

"Yeah, you know, a little transportation to the front door?" The grey mouse's smile became a little strained as he gestured to the wheelchair he had brought. 

"Oh, sure. Bring it in." Chip said; the argument with Dale shelved for later. 

"Would you guys mind waiting outside?" Gadget requested in a hoarse voice, her expression strained. 

"You all right, Gadgetluv? Your throat bothering you?" Monty asked.

"Miss Hackwrench is still in her hospital gown. I expect that she'll want to change into her own clothes. I hope you got my message to bring something suitable?"

"Oh sure!" Dale piped up, proudly holding up a paper bag he had been clutching. 

Chip put his hand over his eyes, already fearing the worst.

"Why thank you, Dale." Gadget said, taking the bag absentmindedly. 

"Should I call a nurse to help you out?" Doctor Bell asked.

"No. I think I can manage." Gadget told him. One by one the occupants of the crowded room filtered out. Chip gave Gadget a last lingering look. Gadget frowned at him and covered herself with the blankets as she shooed him away with her hand. 

Reluctantly, Chip joined the other males waiting in the corridor outside. They were already huddled against a wall in an awkward silence as they tried to stay out the way of bustling doctors, nurses and visitors. Everyone tried not to think about the person getting dressed in the next room and especially not about the big scar that was running down her shaved, furless, stone white belly. 

"Where's Zipper?" Chip asked after a couple of uncomfortable seconds. 

"I told him to check the exits and see which one had fewest reporters buzzing around it." 

"Good thinking, Monty. It's a shame we can't take her home in the Ranger wing." 

"Say, are you new here?" Doctor Bell asked the orderly, in an effort to make small talk.

"Yeah, I started just recently. I was on another shift before." The grey mouse nodded, after a pause. Then he looked away until he caught the eye of a nurse at the nearby duty station and began flirting. 

Two minutes passed before a voice came from the other room; the voice was strong for someone with a sore throat but deeper than Gadget's voice usually was. For a moment Chip looked round in alarm, thinking that someone else was in her room. But, of course, there couldn't be. There was only one door and he had been standing right next to it. 

The orderly walked past him without making eye contact, pretending to busy himself with the wheelchair. For a moment Chip wondered why the orderly was familiar but Chip had spent so long pacing the hospital's corridors that he could have passed the mouse a dozen times without noticing. Still, something bothered Chip. A suspicion that he couldn't name prickled at the back of his mind. 

"Well, as much as I'd like to see Miss Hackwrench off, I have other patients to see and I'm afraid some of them won't wait. Be sure to tell her that I wished her a speedy recovery." Doctor Bell announced after he had looked at the cut down digital watch that he kept in his coat pocket. 

"We'll do that, Doctor, and thank you. For everything." Chip said with genuine gratitude in his voice.

"Too right, Doc! When I think where we might be without your help, it fair makes my blood run cold." Monty put in, shaking the Doctor's paw enthusiastically.

Chip stopped listening to the exchange. He had seen the door to Gadget's room open quietly. The grey furred orderly peeped out, caught sight of Chip and pulled his head back in again. Chip could hear the mutter of an unseen conversation, the speakers eclipsed by the doorframe, and his curiosity was piqued. 

Sensing Monty was still preoccupied with the retreating doctor, Chip began to lean forward, trying to catch the words. Just as he thought he was close enough to make out what was being said over the general background hubbub of hospital business, Gadget's wheelchair ran over his foot. 

"Oops! Sorry, Mister!" Grinned the orderly, without sounding a bit sorry.

Chip glared at the orderly and opened his mouth to say something that he found he could not say in front of Gadget. Settling for a pained sigh instead, he rolled his eyes at the ceiling and wished someone could give him patience, preferably right that very instant. 

"Freedom of speech is never more important than when you've just hit been hit on the thumb with a hammer, 'ay, Chip?" Monty ribbed gently. 

Chip forced a weak smile. "I guess not, Monty." 

"What do you think of the outfit Dale picked?" Gadget asked.

Chip did a double take as he noticed what Gadget was wearing for the first time. Dale's raid on Gadget's wardrobe (which he must have gone into her room for – he would have to talk to Dale about that later; Chipmunks were barred from Gadget's room on general principles, Dale especially since the spaghetti ladder incident) had yielded a blue summer dress with a white flower blossom pattern, a very wide brimmed hat decorated with glitter that Gadget had once worn to a wedding and a pair of gold tinted sunglasses. 

"I'm glad I'm not going to be doing much walking." Gadget said shaking her good leg to draw attention to the white, knee-high platform boots Dale had picked out to go with the costume.  

"Dale, why didn't you just pack a pair of overalls like she usually wears?" Chip asked in a complaining voice.

"Aw Chip, she doesn't want to go back to work straight away!" 

"I didn't mean so that she could go back to work! I meant so she could walk out of here without looking like she was on her way to a nineteen-seventies revival!"

"She isn't going to walk out of here, that's why she's in a wheelchair." Dale argued.

"That's irrelevant." 

"Sez you!"

"Says you." Chip corrected. 

"Now boys, don't be starting a fight now." Monty cautioned them. "I know the last few days have been rough on all of us but this is supposed to be a happy occasion." 

Both chipmunks looked contrite and turned to apologise to Gadget for their rowdy behaviour. They found themselves looking at an empty space. Gadget and her wheel chair were being pushed down the corridor at a fast walking pace by the grey furred orderly. "Hey, wait for us!" Chip called out. 

"No running in the hospital corridors, boys!" Gadget's voice came back, her voice at once clear, charming and yet somehow unlike the voice of the Gadget Chip knew.

Chip didn't have time to examine the thought too closely. As he smiled at Gadget's admonishment, he found himself looking past the wheelchair to the elevators at the end of the corridor. One of them was out of order, standing with the doors wide open and a sign taped up next to its button. Why was the orderly hurrying? Couldn't he see that there was going to be a long wait for the remaining working elevator when he got there? 

A nurse stepped out from the duty station as the orderly approached. "Hey, Romeo." She grinned at him. "I've decided to let you buy me that dinner-" she broke off as the orderly pushed roughly past her, spinning her into a wall. As the nurse looked over her shoulder at him in shock the orderly broke into a run. 

Chip's heart started pounding. All his half-formed fears and suspicions crystallised into a hard lump of certainty in the pit of his stomach. He was running after the accelerating wheelchair before his brain had started to put names to those certainties. Gadget had been known to inspire impulsive behaviour in males who were seeing her for the first time but this was no desperate act by a rash suitor. The grey mouse was kidnapping Gadget! 

A visitor stepped out of a side room and screamed when the wheelchair ran over his foot. 

Chip passed the dazed nurse before any of the other rangers. She was only now starting to get angry and make a fuss, shouting after the retreating orderly and shaking her fist. 

The grey mouse looked over his shoulder to gauge his lead on the pursuit and, for a second, their eyes met. Chip expected to find fear in those eyes; there wasn't any. Instead there was a gleam of excitement, or something similar that Chip couldn't put a name to for the time being. 

"The orderly's kidnapping Gadget!" Dale informed Chip, drawing level for the first time. Behind him, Chip could hear Monty's heavy puffing as he tried to keep up with rodents that were nearly half his age. 

The look in the grey mouse's eyes, Chip wondered: Why had he found it so familiar?

A patient on crutches leapt clear of the on-coming trouble with surprising agility. A hand- Gadget's hand –shot out from wheelchair and snatched one of the crutches away from the patient, sending him crashing to the floor. 

Preoccupied with jumping over the fallen patient, Chip lost his train of thought. About six inches separated him from the kidnapper and Gadget. He thought he could catch them before they reached the end of the corridor. They certainly wouldn't have time to wait for an elevator and they were going too fast to take the corner, Chip noted and leapt over the fallen patient without sparing him a downward glance. 

Where does he think he's taking her? Chip demanded of himself. There's nowhere to go.

Chip heard Dale gasp as he made his own jump over the floored patient. There was a slightly longer pause than Chip expected before he heard the heavy thump of Monty trying the same manoeuvre and failing to clear the obstacle.

At roughly the same time, Dale seemed to come to the same conclusion as Chip, or get distracted by Monty's fall, or perhaps notice the out of order sign on the lift for the first time, because he slowed down. 

Chip recovered his lost train of thought. The glint in the grey mouse's eye reminded Chip of himself, at the end of a case, when he was certain the crook he had been chasing was in his grasp. The kidnapper knew there was nowhere to go and he didn't care. What was he planning to do? Take the stairs? There was no way- 

Chip's eyes widened. You couldn't escape down a staircase with someone in a wheelchair but if you hated someone who had just had major surgery enough; there were less certain ways of trying to kill a person. 

Chip began to run faster. He considered shouting a warning, to let Dale and Monty know what he thought the kidnapper intended, but he didn't have the breath. They were too far back to catch up now, anyway. 

Gadget was still holding the crutch she had grabbed from the fallen patient. She stuck it out like a scythe and began to knock the legs out from under the wall-hugging bystanders. I know how she feels, thought Chip; you'd think one of them could put out a foot to trip him up or something.

The grey mouse was almost at the end of the corridor. 

 Now Chip found himself having to avoid stepping on fallen witnesses. If he wasn't careful, he would be the one to trip. 

The kidnapper reached the end of the corridor. Instead of going for the stairs he shot straight into the elevator, nearly tipping the wheelchair on it's back trying to stop Gadget from crashing into the wall.

Chip jumped over a fallen nun with a sense of triumph. There was no way those doors would close before he reached them and rescued Gadget – single-handed! 

The grey mouse had just enough time to smile wickedly at Chip. 

Then the lift doors snapped shut like a trap. 

Chip hit the doors nose first. Everything went black.

63

The chipmunk's nose hit the other side of the elevator doors with a dull thunk. In the instant before the elevator started to move, it was possible to hear the wet squeak of face sliding down smooth metal. Lawhiney burst out laughing, uncontrollably. 

As he tried to catch his breath, Brandon listened to her laughter. Maniacal, harsh and cruel, it summed up everything about Lawhiney except her looks. Brandon found himself wondering about Gadget Hackwrench's laugh, as his breathing slowed to long deep gasps, about whether Gadget's laugh was deep and coarse and came from the back of the throat like something that was being thrown in the face of everyone who could hear it. 

"So what's the plan, Brandon? I assume Pierre or the mole gave you a plan before you walked in here, or do you plan to push me all the way to Rio in this contraption?"

Brandon sighed deeply, his forehead resting against the cold metal of the elevator doors. "What makes you think I didn't give a plan to them?" he asked with emotions he had been holding back on for a lifetime boiling below the surface.

 Lawhiney laughed again. This time the laughter was directed at him. "C'mon, a dumb cluck like you couldn't make find a way out of a mess like this with a flashlight in both paws. Who gave you the plan? Was it Lorrie, or Pierre?"

"Neither of them."

"Neither of them? Well, where are they? They are waiting for us, aren't they? They survived the fall, right? Well? Answer me!"

"Yes, they survived the fall. We all survived the fall. The wall was grinding against the plane all the way down to the ground. It slowed our fall. When we pulled ourselves out from the wreck and you were nowhere to be found we thought you had been thrown out when we hit, like most of the loot. We ran. Hid. Laid low until we heard you were alive." 

"Never mind that now. Where are they?"

"Waiting for us up on the roof with an aeroplane." 

"That's good, Brandon. Those rangers won't see us for dust."

"Why couldn't this be my plan?" Brandon demanded, turning to face her, finally. 

"Well, I guess I just never thought of you as the planning type, Brandon." Lawhiney faltered, unsettled by her friend's expression. 

"What type did you think I was, Lawhiney?" He asked, towering over her. "The he'll-do-what-ever-he's-told type?" 

Lawhiney didn't like this. It wasn't the Brandon she knew. Actually, to be more accurate, it was exactly the Brandon she knew but she was only used to hearing him talk to other people like this. Usually people she had pointed out to him with an accusing stare and a pout. 

"How about the he's-too-dumb-to-catch-me-lying-to-him type?" 

"Lying to you? Eh, the only lying I've been doing lately is lying in bed." Lawhiney tried to laugh but her sense of unease was growing. 

"**THAT'S WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT!**" Brandon exploded. 

Lawhiney cringed. "Brandon? I don't think this is the best time to talk about this." 

Brandon was drawing closer, crowding her. She didn't like the look on his face one bit. He loomed over her, his eyes glowering. "Well it is my plan, see? Your phoney French rat folded like wet paper when he thought you were in the trap and that mole's no better. He couldn't work out which foot to start running with first, never mind a way to get you out of here." 

"Uh, we're in the middle of an escape here…" 

Brandon glared at her, breathing deeply. After a second, he blinked twice and seemed to see the funny side. "Yeah, that's right. Heh, look at that. Us, fighting each other in the middle of a getaway."

Lawhiney breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment there… just a moment, she had wondered what was going to happen to her. 

The guide's prophecy of her death was still fresh in her mind; so fresh that she had not allowed herself to think about it since the spirit left her room. She didn't want to die. She didn't want to think about dying before she was old and grey and sick of seeing the sun come up and eating good food and having more money than she could bother to spend. She was so close to that now. Just a little longer and Brandon, Pierre, Lorrie and, most importantly, Lawhiney herself would be free and clear. Then she'd break the news to the gang that it was time to split up and lay low until the heat was off. She'd find herself a nice rich old mouse she could settle down with and raise her mouseling surrounded by nice things, so neither of them would ever have to steal again. 

Brandon began to chuckle. "Me, picking a lover's quarrel over a stand-up fight. Who'da thunk it?" 

Lawhiney laughed too. "Can you imagine?" 

"Just picture it: the Ranger's pry the doors open and find us making up, all kissy faced!" Brandon laughed. 

"It's not as if we're even lovers!" Lawhiney wailed with laughter. She didn't notice that she was suddenly laughing alone. "I mean, sure there was that one time, but it's not as if it meant anything…" she trailed off, helpless with laughter again. She didn't notice that she was the only one laughing.

There was a ping from the lift doors and they slowly opened. Lorrie poked his head out of a trapdoor in the lift's ceiling and beamed at both of them. "You see, Brandon, you see?" 

"Yeah, I see." Brandon said in a dangerously quiet and brooding voice. 

"I told you the lift doors would close quickly and they did, plenty quickly."

"Yeah, you did a good job, Lorrie. Now go find Pierre and bring him here, while I turn this wheelchair around." Brandon brushed the mole off like a stranger. 

"Sure thing, boss." Lorrie answered and gave an upside down salute. Then he dropped out of the ceiling with a somersault and ran off through a door to the rainy autumn twilight of the roof top space above the Cosgrove Hotel. 

"Boss?" Lawhiney queried when the mole had gone.

"It's my plan, Lawhiney, like I said. I'm the boss now and that's how things are going to stay. I figure your Gadget Hackwrench impersonation routine would fall flat about anywhere south of the north-pole after this escapade."

"Are you kidding?"

"About your chances of convincing someone that you're Gadget Hackwrench, or me being the boss?"

"What do you think?" Lawhiney demanded.

Brandon pretended to think about it but there was something else on his mind. "Well, gee, I don't know. What do you think? We could head to the Falkland Islands and try to fool some penguins who haven't heard about this yet… Then again, we could do the smart thing like and do what ever the hell I think is best for once." 

"Brandon, there's no need to shout at me. I can see you've got hidden potential that I didn't recognize before but if you think that you're really capable of leading an outfit like this you're crazy." In fact, Lawhiney didn't even really want to be in charge anymore but old habits died hard.

"We'll see." Brandon muttered.

"What did you just say?" Lawhiney demanded. Part of her was asking herself the same question. 

"Nothing." Brandon returned. 

Pierre rushed in ahead of the mole, alarmed by Brandon's unexpected summons. "What is it? What's the problem?"

"We can't get Lawhiney's wheelchair into that aeroplane and she's not well enough to walk or be carried." Brandon announced tersely. 

"Hey, I can make it. You aren't leaving me- oof!" Lawhiney had tried to force herself into a standing position but her injured leg had defeated her. She slumped back into her wheelchair as stars danced before her eyes. 

"What are we going to do?" Pierre asked, imploringly. Beside him, Lorrie hopped from one foot to the other. 

"I've got a plan." Brandon told them. "Just wait a few more seconds…" 

"What? We don't have time!" Pierre protested.

"Hush-up and listen!" Brandon said and cocked an ear. 

The sound of running paws pounding the stairway came from behind the stairwell door, albeit heavy and sluggish paws after the five stories of human hotel they had climbed. 

"It's the Rescue Rangers!" Mole wailed. "They're coming, they're coming!" 

"And you guys better start going!" snarled Brandon. "I've got another way out of here at ground level. You make a break for it and be sure to draw them off. Don't let them know we aren't with you. We'll meet up at that spot in California where it all started." 

No sooner had Brandon finished speaking than he hit the close doors button in the lift. Lorrie and Pierre stared at the door, aghast at being casually abandoned like that. Then the door to the stairwell began to squeak open and they were fighting one and other to be first out the exit. 

Dale was first off the stairs. Behind him, Monty leaned against the doorframe, wheezing. 

"We're too late, Monty!" Dale exclaimed. "The elevator's here but they're nowhere in sight."

Too short of breath to speak, Monty raised a trembling paw and pointed to the exit. Dale stared at Monty's finger in wonder. Monty looked at Dale's lack of comprehension and rolled his bloodshot eyes. "The door-" Monty wheezed "-to the roof-" he gasped "-hasn't swung shut yet." He drew a huge breath to finish the thought. "We can't be far behind." 

Dale ran to the exit door and looked out on to the flatbed roof of the Cosgrove Hotel, where the Small Animals of Mercy Hospital had set up in the belief that they could stay forever because no one would ever notice them. Barely a foot from the exit, a fire engine red model aeroplane with a four-foot wingspan stood waiting for the kidnappers. The pilot gunned the human made petrol engine, something that few animal aviator's used because of the painfully loud noise and the attention it drew. Then the plane turned towards the chalked out airstrip that cut diagonally across the hotel roof and taxied into position for takeoff. 

Monty joined Dale at the exit. "Well come on, Monty! What are we waiting for?" Dale yelled. The rangers hurried out on to the roof, not noticing the yellow lights above the lift doors started to blink and change. 

Roof, the lights said. Then they said: 48, 47, 46… 

The door to the roof finished swinging shut, cutting off all sight of the lift from the roof and ensuring that the Rangers would not return to rescue "Gadget". 

64

"I think they bought it. Ha, ha! The mugs." Brandon laughed with relief. 

"Yeah, Brandon, that was smart thinking." Lawhiney laughed along with him, and wondered why she was making the effort to suck up.

Brandon's shoulders hunched guiltily. "Do you remember," he asked her suddenly, "the night I came to you in the woods and recited poetry to you? You kissed me."

"Sure I do!" Lawhiney said with a twisted half smile, grateful for the chance to put the dope back in his place. "There's nothing dumber than a tough guy trying to act sensitive. I would have done anything to shut you up." Her smile widened. "Come to think of it, that's just what it took to keep you quiet... if I remember right."  

Brandon turned away from her and Lawhiney felt a twinge from what she suspected her guide would have called her conscience. She crushed it ruthlessly. He was nothing special, she reminded herself. Heck, he was nothing but a nuisance. How often had he been buzzing around bothering her since they left Hawaii? The last thing he needed was encouragement – he'd want her even more because she was hard to get. Any moment now he'd be all over her.

But he wasn't all over her. He was resting his forehead against the elevator doors like someone with a bad headache, his shoulder's hunched and his fists tight. 

Not interested in me anymore? It's the wheelchair, she thought, who ever heard of a femme fatal in a wheelchair? "I'll be out of this wheelchair soon enough." She told him. 

Brandon said nothing.

"I guess you've proved yourself up to running things until I'm fully recovered." Lawhiney said.

Brandon started gently knocking his head against the lift doors. 

Not a headache then, Lawhiney thought, at least, not yet. "Brandon?" she prodded. 

"Stop patronizing me." 

His voice was twisted with more emotion than Lawhiney had thought he could feel. When he turned, she was startled to see tears in his eyes. Tears had no place on the face of a mouse like Brandon. His face was hard and rugged, scarred in places where countless fights had taken their toll, his whiskers nothing but stubble, cut short so no one could grab them. 

"Do you have any idea what it takes for a person like me to want to write poetry?" he asked. "What I had to feel before I tried to put it in words instead of just pounding at something with my fists until it went away?"

Lawhiney opened and closed her mouth but no words came out. 

"No." Brandon growled sourly as he advanced on her. In the tiny lift he didn't have far to go. "You've no idea. No idea at all. And do you know why you've no idea? You've never really felt anything in your whole life, that's why. Oh, you feel pain when you fall down, perhaps a little sorrow when you look into the mirror and realise that you have to get older like everyone else, maybe even fear when Ranger plane hit the side of the museum, but you don't know what it is to feel something for another person. Something like love!" 

By the time Brandon finished his tirade he was shouting. Lawhiney felt oddly detached from reality. The last time she had felt like this was just after the crash, when she had found herself looking down at her own twisted body. She hadn't understood what was happening then, either. 

"Love? Ha, what am I talking about?" Brandon subsided. "You don't even have a shred of empathy in your whole soul! You don't have a clue what another person is feeling. You're probably sitting there worried out of your skull that you'll go to jail if someone hears this and catches us."

 Lawhiney gulped. It had, actually, been very close to what she was thinking. 

"You don't have to worry about that. You'll never see the inside of a jail. I'll see to that. I'll see to that right now!" and with the last word, Brandon- his face twisted with fury -locked his hands around her throat. 

Lawhiney tried to scream but only a frightened gasp escaped Brandon's claws. 

The lift was suddenly quiet. The lack of sound frightened Lawhiney more than Brandon's speech. She hadn't realised that it was possible to die so quietly, with so little notice, or ceremony. Other people perhaps, but not her. Not her. Her death was supposed to be spectacular and dramatic, or touching and tragic. People were supposed to weep by her bedside and say there would never be another like her. 

She began choking. 

Her claws scratched at Brandon's but he was stronger, much stronger, and her left arm was still tender from the dislocated shoulder she had received in the crash. Even with both paws working on just one of Brandon's, she couldn't breathe. 

Her vision started to fade. Just as she thought she was going to black out completely, Brandon changed his grip and she caught a lungful of air. She had time for one plea before he could tighten his grip again and it had to be good. 

"Please. I love you." Her voice was so quiet that she barely heard it over the sound of her own blood rushing through her ears. 

"You're just saying that! How many times, Lawhiney? How many times have you said that and lied? A hundred? A thousand? How many times have you meant it? Once? Never?" Brandon was sobbing the words now. 

Lawhiney knew he was right, of course. She had never said those words and meant them. Now she never would. The chance to ever say them and mean it was being taken away from her forever. The lack of air was washing the colours out of the world. It suddenly occurred to her, as her desperate struggles became feeble swats at the blur Brandon had become, that her death would be tragic and that people would weep for her. 

Because they thought she was Gadget Hackwrench. 

When they found out the truth, there would be rejoicing. 

They would be rejoicing because she, Lawhiney, was dead.  

Lawhiney's lips began moving of their own accord. Even she didn't know what she was trying to say. A great sadness welled up inside her at the thought of disappointing Saint Peter. She had been given a second chance and she had thrown it away. 

"What? What are you trying to say?" Brandon's voice rasped in her ears from a great distance. 

Lawhiney's mouth tried to make the words clearer in the hope that Brandon could lip-read. Apparently he couldn't and the frustration of trying made him let up the pressure on her windpipe enough for a few paltry last words. Lawhiney's choice of last words surprised her as much as Brandon. 

"I'm carrying your child!" 

65

Chip woke up to find Zipper hovering over him. Seeing any eater of carrion is generally a bad sign when you're a small animal regaining consciousness. Recognizing the fly as a friend, Chip suppressed the customary shriek of "Getouttahereyabum! I-ain't-dead-yet!" There was also something large and red very close to his eyes, obstructing the view of where his feet would normally be, and a strange taste of soap in his mouth. 

Zipper buzzed happily at Chip's revival. 

"Just lay still, Mister Maplewood." The soothing tones of Doctor Bell's bedside manner were just loud enough to be heard over the bells Chip could hear ringing. 

Chip didn't think hospital chapels had bell towers but he just hoped that wherever they were coming from they weren't tolling for Gadget. With that thought he struggled to speak. "Gadget?" 

"Your friends went after her just a couple of minutes ago. You broke your nose hitting the elevator doors. In all the excitement, no one noticed that you'd swallowed your tongue until Mr Zipper arrived."

Zipper performed a brief mime act of someone giving CPR. Chip blinked. He knew Zipper was more heroic in every day life than a certain chipmunk working an easy case, but he couldn't imagine a fly giving him the kiss of life. 

"You resuscitated me?" Chip asked Doctor Bell.

"Er, no. That was Nurse Phipps." Doctor Bell nodded towards a frog in a nurse's uniform. 

Chip ran his tongue around the strange taste in his mouth and tried not to grimace. He pulled himself up into a sitting position. 

"You shouldn't get up yet." Doctor Bell rushed to support him.

"I'm going after them." Chip explained, fighting his way onto unsteady feet. 

"You stopped breathing for at least a minute. There's no way you can take the stairs."

"Then I'll take the elevator." Chip pushed the call button with his whole paw. His vision was too blurred to use a finger. 

66

Brandon stared at her. The sound of her hacking gasps for air was the only sound in the elevator.

Lawhiney looked up at him. The hands that had just been strangling her framed his face perfectly.

"You're - You're lying!" Brandon whispered hoarsely. 

Lawhiney managed a smile. The part of her that was good at pretending to be someone else said that a number three smile (shy virtue admitting to feelings never felt before) should be perfect for the occasion. The part of her that had fallen five stories and almost died told the first part to get lost. 

Brandon took a step back as Lawhiney fixed the most twisted, black-hearted grin he had ever seen on her face and leaned towards him. 

"I could be." She admitted. "You could go ahead and kill me right now and go on telling yourself that for the rest of your life. But you would never know for sure, would you? Maybe you'd lie awake at night sometimes, wondering." 

Their eyes had locked like antlers and it was impossible for either to look away. 

"Maybe one day you'd hear that they found out I was pregnant during the autopsy and you'd wonder if that meant I'd be telling the truth about everything. Or maybe you'd stop caring long before that."

Brandon held up his paws in a pleading gesture. Turning them over was all it took. That was the difference between a death threat and surrender. "Truth." He moaned. "Give me the truth, Lawhiney. Just once… before they come to take us away." 

"The truth is I'm carrying a child, maybe yours, and in a few minutes they'll take us both to jail. They'll take my baby away, he'll grow up in an orphanage and never even see either of us." Lawhiney drew one shuddering breath after another. She put a paw to her eyes. She wasn't crying but she wanted to be. In a detached way she marvelled at how much pain, fear and misery her heart could hold with no release. "I don't know if I ever loved you. I think if I ever loved anyone, I probably crushed the feeling like a human smashing a stray bug for fear of being… weak." 

Brandon blinked once, slowly. "I grew up in an orphanage. It's where I learned to be tough. Didn't take long to get into prison. That was where I learned how to fight. No child of mine is going through that."

Lawhiney looked at back at him with defeat in her eyes. "What can we do about it?"

"I know exactly what I'm going to do." Brandon looked at her another moment. Then he reached back to the control panel that Lorrie the mole had sabotaged and opened it. With one swipe of his claws he shredded the wires, to the buzz and sparks of dying electrical circuits. 

The elevator shuddered like a wounded animal. 

Lawhiney cried out in alarm. 

There was a sudden jolt as the elevator came to fatal stop.

Then the lights went out. 

67

Chip watched the elevator lights over the doors as they changed one second at a time. It was taking too long for the elevator car to get here, but his knees were trembling and Chip knew that Doctor Bell had been right about his chances of making it up the stairs. In irritation, he started jabbing at the button repeatedly. 

"That doesn't make it come any faster. I've tried." A pleasant but worried female voice said behind him. 

Chip didn't look back to see who it was. He just ran his free paw over the dent in the elevator door where his face had hit. Somewhat belatedly, he realised the red thing blocking his view of his feet was his own nose. 

The paw that had explored the elevator door now explored his own injured face, which unexpectedly seemed to bite him. 

"Yeouch!" 

"Try not to touch the injured area until our staff have had a chance to look at it." Doctor Bell said from somewhere behind him.

"You've jammed it." The well-meaning female voice said at the same time. 

Chip's eyes crossed as he tried to work out how you could jam a nose, even a broken one. 

"It's stuck between floors now." The voice put in. 

Chip looked back and realised it was the nurse who had been knocked down by the kidnapper who had spoken. She was a brown mouse, with white patches that emphasised her narrow face, and Chip made a mental note to speak to her later about how well she knew the grey mouse who had snatched Gadget away from under his (now swollen) nose. He followed her gaze back to the lights above the elevator and saw that the numbers 23 and 22 were both flickering crazily. 

"Why did it do that?" Chip asked himself.

"There's been an out of order sign on both of them since lunch."

"The kidnapper knew one of them would work for him." Chip answered the nurse. 

"If it was working it wouldn't be stuck." Someone put in.

"Maybe someone hit the stop button." 

"Monty and Dale wouldn't do that if they were bringing them back down." Chip reasoned.

"Maybe there was a fight and the stop button got hit by accident." Doctor Bell said.

Chip hung his head. He tried to remember what the control panel in the elevator looked like. He couldn't. But slowly a thought formed in his head. "When was the last time anyone here saw a stop button in an elevator?" He asked. 

There was a second while everyone thought about it. 

"Our elevators don't have them." Doctor Bell said. "I'm sure of it." 

"Gadget is in that elevator." Chip deduced. "Either Monty and Dale beat them to the top, or someone who was an obstacle to the kidnapper was waiting on the floor he wanted to get off." 

"Now they're both stuck. What happens next?"

Chip thought about it for one second. Then he spoke with an iron determination in his voice. "We have to get into that elevator car. Fast."

When Chip reached the twenty-third floor his head was spinning. He burst through the doorway with a loud bang and found that the only way to stop him self from crashing to the floor a second time was to collapse against the receptionist's desk opposite the lifts. 

"Sir, I have to ask you to wait your turn." The receptionist informed him, frostily. 

"I'm Chip Maplewood." Chip told her.

"I'll take your name when it's your turn." 

"I need to see someone who can open the lift doors. The lift is stuck and there are people trapped inside." 

"I'm sure they can keep until I've dealt with this queue." The receptionist nodded to a string of small animals who were all staring disapprovingly at Chip for jumping the queue. 

Chip tried to count the number of people in the queue. He gave up when he realised that he was seeing double. "One of the people in the lift is a dangerous kidnapper and the other is his victim. We have to get the doors open before he harms her."

"Oh! My goodness! I can call the lift engineer but their office hours are nine to five." 

Chip and the receptionist blinked at each other for a moment. Chip was holding off on asking why he would want to know the office hours of elevator repair animal and finally remembered that with painstaking punctuality he had turned up to collect Gadget at exactly five. 

"Try the number anyway." He ordered carefully. "Maybe they haven't all gone home yet."

"Okay." The receptionist picked up a phone handset that had been made out of an earpiece that was meant to fit entirely inside a human ear and a microphone that should have been clipped to a human tie somewhere. With the medium sized hammer that she kept under the desk, she began hitting the keys on a salvaged dialling pad. 

Chip bowed his head in gratitude and tried to think of his next move. Hospital security should be here any second. They would have to start a negotiation with the kidnapper somehow. Most lifts had emergency phones in them. It would be vital to convince him that there was a safe way out of this and that he didn't have to do anything to Gadget. Then they could spring the doors and take the kidnapper by surprise while they were agreeing to his demands. 

"I got through!" The receptionist said cheerfully. "They said they'd be happy to help."

"Great!" Chip smiled. 

"And they'll be here first thing in the morning!"

Chip swallowed his shock. "Where is hospital security?" He demanded. 

"They're on their way. They'll be here any moment."

Chip tried not to think about what was happening in that elevator car right that second. He knew in his bones that anything could have happened by the time the lift doors were opened. He looked over his shoulder at the elevators, beside himself with desperation. 

Directly behind him a pair of lift doors were standing open. 

Chip would have done a spit take but he was afraid that if he did it might be his front tooth that he spat. His whole face had felt wrong since his close encounter with the elevator door. Surely the kidnapper couldn't have simply wheeled Gadget out behind him while he was talking to the receptionist? He would have noticed. Gadget would have shouted for help, he told himself. 

Then again, the nasty voice of cold reason pointed out, you've taken quite a hit to the head. And Gadget couldn't shout if she was unconscious – or dead. 

Chip gulped. "How long have those elevator doors been open?" 

"Since just after lunch. That one's out of order." The receptionist told him. 

Chip sighed. The blow to his head had shaken him more than he thought; enough for him to confuse the two elevators and think he'd lost the kidnapper. 

"For a moment there, I thought-" A scream cut through his hazy explanation. It came from the elevator that didn't have its doors open. 

It was Gadget's scream. 

The fur on Chip's arms and back stood on end and his ears laid so far back that they disappeared into his hat. 

A loud pounding noise came from inside the jammed elevator. Judging from the sound, something heavy, like a body, was being slammed against the inside walls of the elevator car. 

"Tell hospital security to get into that elevator car anyway they can!" Chip yelled at the receptionist.

Then he was gone. There was no way Gadget would survive until security got here. There was probably no way she was going to survive until he could get there. 

"You can't force the doors! You need a special tool!" someone yelled out behind him.

Chip ignored them. He had other ideas. Luck had dealt him only one card. It was the open, out of order elevator. Standing in the centre of the elevator car, he jumped up towards the tiny maintenance hatch in the roof. It was stiff. The first two tries did nothing. The third try opened it for just an instant. The hatch closed under its own weight the moment gravity pulled his fingers away. 

Chip bent double and tried to get his breath back. The obvious finally occurred to him. "Zipper? Zipper, get in here! I need this hatch open!" There was a terrible second where Chip thought that Zipper had flown away on some inscrutable insect impulse. Then the fly was beside him, his wings invisible as he hovered at Chip's eye level. "Go on!" Chip urged him, gesturing to the small hatch. 

Zipper rose to the ceiling as though weightless. Then he pushed with every fraction of an ounce of strength that he possessed. In a moment the hatch was open. Zipper buzzed through and looked back at Chip with a satisfied smile. The sound of screaming from the next elevator wiped the smile off his face fast though. It also gave Chip enough energy to jump up and join Zipper on top of the elevator. 

The elevator car that Gadget and her kidnapper were in was about half a floor lower than the one they were standing on. The lift shaft was pitch black except for the square of light coming through the hatchway they had just opened. 

From up here the noise coming from the other elevator was less muffled. 

"I'm going to KILL you! I would have gotten away with it, if it wasn't for you! All that GOLD! You had to fly the plane into a wall! What kind of pilot are you?" 

The voice was male, deep and masculine one moment, high and hysterical the next. As it broke off, there was more hammering at the inside of the elevator followed by female – Gadget's – cries. 

Chip couldn't tell for sure because his otherwise excellent rodent night vision hadn't had time to adjust to the dark, but he was fairly certain there was a wide gap between the two elevator cars with nothing between him and the basement levels of the Cosgrove hotel. He jumped anyway. 

68

"YOU'RE DEAD! DO YOU HEAR ME? DEAD!" Brandon roared with his paws clamped around Lawhiney's helpless throat. 

Terrified, Lawhiney was beyond even screaming. She sobbed uncontrollably. 

A heart stopping crash came from the ceiling. The lift lurched downward a clear six millimetres.

Lawhiney let out a single gasp of surprise as her injured tail sent a wave of pain up her spine. She pulled away from Brandon and felt him lose his balance completely then saw the look of anger in his face washed away by surprise. The wheelchair tilted back alarmingly and all fear of Brandon, or of the lift cables failing, suddenly vanished. Instead there was a dreadful anticipation of her already broken tail being crushed under the back of the chair. 

The moment seemed to stretch out to eternity. Then the back of her head hit the rear of the elevator hard enough for her to see stars. 

Brandon fell heavily on her, his body weight shifting the wheelchair's centre of gravity back towards Lawhiney's feet. Broken bones that had barely begun mending flared with agony. 

The roof exploded with chipmunk. Angry, well-muscled, Rescue Ranger chipmunk. 

Lawhiney screamed as she saw him drop from the little hatchway, not a descending nemesis bent on retribution but merely a heavy object about to drop on her from a great height. 

Chip landed squarely on Brandon's back. Lawhiney screamed with pain. Brandon screamed with surprise. Chip screamed with anger. 

The sudden impact and extra weight flipped the wheelchair upright and catapulted Lawhiney forward. Her head slammed into Chip's with a sharp crack. Stunned, she slumped in the chair while Brandon struggled to throw the dazed chipmunk off his back. 

Chip hauled back on Brandon's collar as though he were riding a bronco. The lift lurched violently, adding to the effect. Suddenly they were moving downwards again. 

Brandon struggled to his feet and began throwing himself about, slamming Chip against the elevator walls again and again. 

"I won't let you hurt her!" Chip gasped between body blows. 

"She's got it coming to her! Then you'll get yours!" Brandon snarled over his shoulder. 

Chip locked his arms around Brandon's throat in a stranglehold. 

Brandon countered by throwing his body back to bang Chip's head into the elevator doors. Twice Chip's head connected. On the third try the doors opened unexpectedly and the two fighting rodents fell backwards through them to lie stunned on the hospital floor. 

Dazed, Chip released his strangle hold on Brandon's neck. Strong hands were quickly grabbing at Brandon's arms and legs. He slapped, shook and bit them until they fell away, then rolled onto all fours in an effort to knock the legs out from under one of the hospital orderlies. 

The effort worked but the orderly, a large brown rat, fell squarely on top of Brandon, knocking the wind out of him momentarily. By the time Brandon had fastened his teeth onto the leg of another orderly and pulled himself clear the brown rat, he was surrounded. 

Chip struggled back to his feet and positioned himself in the elevator doorway, hoping he was still strong enough to protect "Gadget" and praying he wouldn't have to. 

The bundle of struggling bodies that had formed around Brandon became a vicious fistfight.

Chip watched, breathing heavily, glad he wasn't a part of it. He drew a paw across his tired eyes, pushing his fedora way back on his head. 

From somewhere there was a pronounced cry of pain. Brandon chose that moment to break loose and lunge towards the elevator. Chip couldn't stop himself from taking a step backward. Brandon's paws stretched out – his claws were only half a finger's length from Chip's throat when the hospital orderlies caught hold of his clothes, drawing him up short. 

Chip peered at him woozily. He was seeing triple and each version of the kidnapper was shivering like a heat haze. Chip desperately, desperately wanted to throw a punch but missing at a moment like this would be more than embarrassing, particularly if he hit one of the hospital staff instead. 

"Curse you, **GADGET HACKWRENCH!** It would have been the perfect crime if it hadn't been for you! I'll have my revenge,** GADGET HACKWRENCH**!"

Chip decided to take the chance. 

Closing one eye to improve his aim, he threw the best punch he could. The blow missed and hit the hospital orderly on Brandon's left. 

Chip winced and tried it with the other eye closed instead. This time he hit the orderly on Brandon's right. 

Frowning apologetically at the dazed orderlies, Chip realised that the rising embarrassment he felt could now only be erased by successfully knocking the crook out. Since his aim was unlikely to improve with both eyes closed, Chip reluctantly opened both eyes and threw the punch at the Brandon he hadn't hit yet. 

Brandon and all five orderlies fell backwards into a heap on the floor. Chip breathed a huge sigh of relief. Then he turned to check on Gadget. Before he could utter a word she was in his arms, her chin pressing on his shoulder, her hair covering his face. 

"Thank you." She whispered in his ear. 

Brandon and the orderlies tussled on the floor. By the time Brandon had regained his feet the orderlies had his arms and legs tightly restrained and it was over. Still he pulled towards the elevator, his wild eyes staring straight into the eyes of the woman he had almost killed. And she looked into his. 

"Thank you. Thank you." She repeated with her voice full of gratitude and her eyes full of tears as the orderlies dragged Brandon away. 

"It's okay, Gadget." Chip told her. "'I've got you and you'll never see him again. That's a promise." 

"Gadget" buried her face in the wool collar of his bomber jacket and sobbed uncontrollably. 


	12. A Tale of Two Patients

**_Disclaimer_**

_In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone…  except a certain kind of lawyer._

**Chapter Twelve**

**A Tale of Two Patients**

69

Gadget Hackwrench was moving home. Her normal cell was ready for her, at last. She was grateful for that although, she reminded herself, since she was being unjustly imprisoned it made little sense to be grateful to someone for keeping her in a cell instead of a rubber room and a straitjacket. 

She had nothing to carry. That was a blessing, she thought. 

The new cell had no bars. It was a tiled white room with a bed and a toilet. The door was metal and had a large hatchway that could only be opened from the outside. There was no window and the only light came from a white L.E.D. wired to the ceiling and protected by it's own metal cage. Even the light was a prisoner here, Gadget thought, and although it could slip easily between the bars and escape, the bars cut a long shadow across everything the light touched afterwards. The light had lost part of itself in the escape. 

Gadget didn't need to look at the cell for very long to know that, for her, escaping would be as hard as staying. 

"Here you are. The lap of luxury." One of the female orderlies told her as she stepped into the tiny, nine-inch by nine-inch room. "Make yourself comfortable. You're going to be here a long time."

"Yeah? I thought I was going to be here until you took me to see Doctor Schadenfreude at ten tomorrow." Gadget quipped bitterly. 

"You know what I mean. No back chat, missy, unless you want to sleep in a straitjacket again tonight."

Gadget's lip curled but she didn't say anything. Sleeping without straps digging into her was one of the things that she was looking forward to. It wasn't until the no-nonsense matrons had left Gadget alone that she realised how out of character sniping at them at all had been, for her. There was something about being a prisoner that made you want to score points off the people confining you any way you could. It was about the only way she had to hang onto what dignity she had left.  

Dignity, Gadget's conscience pricked her, or pride? 

Wisecracking at the guards wasn't particularly dignified, Gadget allowed, and it lead to confrontations she couldn't win, which wouldn't help her pride. Nor would it reflect well on her when the truth eventually came out. Gadget Hackwrench – the troublesome inmate. 

"Ah, the witty repartee of institutional life." Came a smooth voice from the doorway. 

Gadget lifted her head. She hadn't heard the door open or expected visitors so soon after arriving. 

Professor Ratigan stood in the doorway wearing a fine, if rather old-fashioned, suit. He smiled at her roguishly. 

"Professor! Uh, this is a surprise. A nice surprise." Gadget emphasized. 

"How pleasant of you to say so, my dear." The Professor returned. "I have left it so long since my last visit that I wasn't sure you'd remember me." 

Actually, Gadget hadn't been sure that she had ever met the Professor at all. She remembered his first visit to her padded cell only hazily and after the wild nightmare she had dreamed about him, Gadget had wondered whether he had been a figment of her imagination. "Of course I remember you." She said politely. "You're the only visitor I've had so far." 

"I hope I haven't called at a bad time. You seemed to be in a bad mood a moment ago?" 

Gadget blushed and hung her head. "It's just that I get so frustrated. I don't belong here and there's nothing I can do to convince anyone that I am who I say I am." 

Ratigan stroked his chin with his long fingers as he considered this. "You didn't look frustrated, though I can certainly understand someone in your position feeling that way." 

Gadget's blush deepened. "Am I in trouble with the guards?" 

"Not at all, they're used to it. Taking backchat from the inmates is part of their job. I'm slightly curious as to why you would go to the trouble though…" Ratigan drew out the words why and trouble for emphasis. 

Gadget inwardly cringed. It was the last thing she wanted to talk about. 

"Of course," the Professor continued, "if you don't trust me any more I could just leave you to it."

Gadget shook her head desperately.  "No, please! Don't go. It's nice to be able to talk to someone who doesn't think I'm a raving lunatic." 

"Very well, then. You were, ahem, saying?" 

"About what?"

"About why you were being difficult with the guards." Ratigan said, pointedly. 

"Oh! Well, ah, I don't know what to say. You're right, Professor. I was being rude. It was wrong of me and the next time I see that orderly I'll apologize." 

"Gadget, please. You don't have to worry about saying the right thing around me." Professor Ratigan chided. "The conventional rules and manners of society can be every bit as confining as a straitjacket, and we both know that you don't need one of those."

"Gee, Professor, it's nice of you to say and all, but I really wasn't just saying that! I mean it, I'll apologize the next time I see her." 

Ratigan nodded kindly. "Because you believe that it's the right thing to do?" 

Gadget nodded.

"Because it's important for people to know that Gadget Hackwrench is someone who does the right thing?" 

Gadget nodded again.

"Because you were raised to believe that certain things are right and that certain things are wrong?" 

Gadget nodded a third time.

Ratigan sighed. "Let's take those one at time. You believe it's the right thing to do because you were raised to believe that it's the right thing to do. Have you ever questioned the beliefs in right and wrong you were raised with?"

"Well, now and then, when I had an idle moment or two, but then when you have an idle moment or two, things are generally going well so there isn't any reason to doubt yourself, and when they aren't going well you're generally rushed off your feet trying to do something about it-"

"The right thing?" Ratigan interrupted.

"Exactly." Gadget agreed. 

"Who raised you, Gadget?" 

"My father, Gewgaw." But you know that, she almost added before remembering that she was thinking of the conversation she had dreamed and which Ratigan could not possibly remember. 

"And was he perfect?"

"Oh yes." Gadget answered in a matter of fact way. She blinked at Ratigan waiting for him to move on to something more relevant. 

"Er… I see." Ratigan said, thrown by encountering the one blind spot of Gadget's rational mind. "And are you perfect?"

"Oh no." Gadget laughed, as though that would be silly. 

"But your father was." 

"Yes." 

"Absolutely perfect."

"Completely."

"A credit to all mousedom." 

"That's right."

"As pure as the driven snow."

"Well…" Gadget frowned.

"Yes?" Ratigan asked, hopefully. 

"I've never really understood that saying. Have you ever seen snow after someone, particularly a human, has driven through it? I mean, what with all the atmospheric pollution modern civilization has produced as a by-product of industrialization, neither rain nor snow can really be said to be pure any more. And once any kind of wheeled vehicle has contributed to what-"

"Miss Hackwrench, please." Ratigan said flatly. "We are both familiar with the idiosyncrasies of our native tongue. I believe you are merely trying to distract yourself from the issue at hand. I wish to be very clear on this point: Your father was a mouse with no moral, mental or physical fault whatsoever."

Gadget frowned for a moment. "Yes." She said, after a heartbeat's pause.

Ratigan massaged his forehead. "Hmm. And, ah ha, if he were here now and I were to ask him if he were perfect, what do you think he would say?" 

"Oh, he'd laugh and deny it."

"And why do you think he'd do that?"

"Well, he was very modest…"

"So he would lie?" Ratigan challenged. "To avoid being seen as arrogant?"

"No!" 

"So he'd be telling the truth when he said he wasn't perfect? And anyone else who said that would be telling the truth too?"

"Well, he would believe it was true." Gadget said reasonably. "But I could tell." She confided and with a dreamy smile.

"So he didn't believe he was perfect?"

"He didn't seem to." Gadget was staring at some fixed point that was more distant in time than space. 

"But if he was perfect, how could he believe something that was so wrong? Something that even imperfect you could see?" 

Gadget's eyes locked with Ratigan's. "What are you getting at?" She demanded, sternly.

"Either you believe in a father who would lie about who he really was or you believe in a father who was ignorant of, perhaps unable to understand, his own nature. Either way you do not truly believe your father is perfect."

Gadget's eyes and face were frozen. "You didn't know my father." She stated.

"This isn't really about your father. It's about you. You say that your father was perfect, you might even say it to yourself until you believe it, but you don't actually believe that he was perfect."

"I already said that I wasn't perfect." 

"So, are you lying to yourself, or just to me?" Ratigan enquired, as if asking whether she preferred blue or red flowers. 

Gadget blinked. "Why are you doing this? I thought you were my friend." She pleaded.

"ANSWER THE QUESTION!" Ratigan roared. 

Gadget flinched at the unexpected assault. "Myself." She gasped. Her lips twitched as though trying to suck the word back into her mouth. 

"Again. Louder." Ratigan commanded.

"No." Gadget turned away. "I want you to leave now." 

"You can be honest with me. Friends don't judge one and other for being who they are."

Gadget kept her back to him, her shoulders hunched in silence. 

"Come on now, you can manage just a little truth. What would your father say if you couldn't?"

Gadget drew a shaky breath. "Myself. I was lying to myself and my father wasn't perfect. He said so himself, many times." 

"Good girl!" Ratigan praised her. "Good girl. Now I will leave you, for the time being. Until I see you again, remember this: If your father was not perfect, and you are not perfect, then neither are your ideas of right and wrong."

"I don't really know what's right and wrong. I'll remember."

"That's the spirit." Ratigan whispered happily. "Never more will you wear your upbringing like a straitjacket. The truth has set you free."

"Yes, free." Gadget agreed, leaning against the wall of her cell. 

70

Ratigan was been as good as his word. He left her - for a while. 

Gadget was digesting a lunch of food pellets, mashed carrot and bean, with a single blueberry for afters, when he reappeared. 

She had been lying on her bed looking up at the ceiling tiles, doing the same arithmetic that she had done with the bubbles in the bubble-wrap padding of the padded cell, when she heard someone clearing their throat from the doorway. She made a mental note of where she had got up to with her maths problem and set it aside for later, never doubting that she would be able to recall every figure accurately, and then she looked over to see who it was. 

The hope that it might be Chip had faded to the point where she only noticed it now by it's absence.

It wasn't Chip. It was Ratigan. Her heart failed to sink with disappointment, the way it had so many times before. Why is it I never see him come or go, Gadget wondered?

"Ah, Miss Hackwrench." Ratigan purred like a cat – a rather unattractive trait, to a mouse. 

"I don't think I mentioned it before, but I'd rather you didn't call me Miss." Gadget said, sitting up on the corner of the bed. 

"Really? Why? You aren't… married, are you?" Ratigan's voice rose and fell with innocent enquiry and horrified speculation.

"Why do you ask?" Gadget looked at him innocently. 

It wasn't, Ratigan noted, an outright denial. He pursed his lips and considered his options. "Well, you are a rather literal minded young lady. I wondered if your objection to being called Miss was because it was inaccurate." 

"I know the typical stereotype of any person in the engineering or technical professions is of a pale, hopelessly logical individual, with no social life, weak eyes and a tendency to recite techno-babble at a speed that only makes sense if you play it back in slow motion, however I would have hoped that it would have been obvious from the moment anyone met me that such a stereotype does not reflect reality of people who work with the applied sciences." Gadget lectured at speed. 

Ratigan mentally replayed this in slow motion and then nodded sagely when he was sure he understood it. "I'm certain no one could accuse you of fitting such a stereotype." He agreed, as though testing the water. 

Silence. 

"After all, your, uh, eyes, for example, are perfect." 

The "perfect" eyes looked at him, as if daring him to be making fun of her. 

"Twenty-Twenty vision, I have no doubt about it." He added hastily. "And those other points you described," Ratigan laughed briefly, "why, we both know how badly you compare to them, so let us not even trouble ourselves to discuss them." 

Gadget found herself quietly wondering just how she did measure up to description of a pale, hopelessly logical person with no social life and a tendency to talk at great length about things that no one else understood. In any person, there is a still, quiet part of the mind that sits at the back of the head and watches until it finds something critical to say. In Gadget's case, it tended to talk very quickly when it found something, in order to get a word in edgeways.

"Quite." She said, after a moment's pause. Her eyes were glazed from looking into her soul. The downward turn of her lips suggested that she didn't like what she had seen. 

"But still, on to the reason for my, ah ha, little visit here." Ratigan's toned implied that there was nothing little about receiving a visit from him. "You have an appointment with Doctor Schadenfreude tomorrow. I, er, do trust that you haven't forgotten your promise?"

Gadget remained silent. She was thinking hard, trying to compare herself to her description of the stereotypical engineer objectively, but her normally well-behaved ego kept getting in the way. 

Ratigan didn't like being ignored. In fact, he hated it. "Ah, Gadget? MISS?"

Gadget came back to reality with a jolt. She looked coldly at Ratigan. "I hope I won't have to remind you every time you open your mouth." 

"Speaking of reminders and open mouths, you do remember your promise to keep my visits a secret? You have an appointment with Doctor Schadenfreude tomorrow and while he might not seem terribly… insightful, he can be very disarming and very clever. I wouldn't want you to let anything slip. Anything that might land me in hot… water." Ratigan light and airy tone became as heavy as lead on the last word. 

"I gave you my word. I've only ever broken it once, that I can recall." Gadget replied. 

"Oh? There wasn't a psychiatrist involved, I trust?"

Gadget hesitated noticeably. "Well… not directly." 

Ratigan gestured for her to continue. Instead she turned her large blue eyes on him and blinked as though she didn't have the faintest clue what he wanted from her. Ratigan was not about to let her off the hook. 

"In view of the fact that my safety is an issue, I do feel you owe me some further explanation." He said, pointedly. 

Gadget looked reluctant. 

"I promise never to call you Miss again… you never did say why you didn't like being called that, by the way." 

"It sounds a lot like some of the playground nicknames I got. Miss-Take, Miss-Guided, Miss-Hap, Miss-Fire…" she gestured that the list went on. 

"Children can be so cruel. The little darlings." Ratigan smiled and nodded. 

"Anyway, if you really want to know, the promise I broke was to always keep a light on at home, so that my father could find his way back." 

"Yes? And, uh, did he?" Ratigan knew perfectly well her father had not. 

"No. I was alone in the old aeroplane that we lived in for over a year. Then Monty and the others found me. They needed my help. Monty couldn't pilot the plane my father had left him and I had to go with them. By the time I got back, the battery had run down, so I had to recharge it. But the light had already gone out once. I kept going back, to keep it going, and to reset the death-traps periodically." 

Ratigan's eyes went wide, and a genuine smile crossed his face at hearing that. 

"But the light just wouldn't stay on without me there to look after it. Finally Monty sat down with me and we had a long talk about things. Monty persuaded me that my father didn't need to see the light to guide him home, because he was already there. In a spiritual sense." 

"And the psychiatrist?"

Gadget hesitated again. "I didn't realise it at the time but later, a long time later, I found out that Monty had…" she trailed off. 

Ratigan nodded encouragingly but did nothing to fill up the silence, knowing that if he left it to her she would use anything, even the most embarrassing truth, to fill it. 

"He'd been getting advice from a grief therapist on how to… handle me. I never met the psychiatrist personally." She looked away. "I think Chip pushed him into it." 

Ratigan looked as sympathetic as he could without looking insincere. "That must have hurt a great deal. Your best and only friends in the whole world, including the one person who ought to know you best, treating you as though you were… damaged and fragile. Did they make you feel guilty for telling them off, as well?" 

"I never-" Gadget broke off. This was going somewhere that she didn't really want to go. 

"You never confronted them?" Ratigan whispered. "Was that because you agreed with their assessment?" 

"No! Of course not! I just…" Gadget realised too late that she didn't have another reason for not confronting them. "I didn't see the point in having an argument with them. They were worried about a friend, that's all." 

"But they were dishonest with you. They kept something you had a right to know from you." 

"I know, but they meant well." 

"Well, I'm sure you're right. I can see what you mean. They didn't let on that they thought you weren't as strong as them. They went to the trouble of pretending to think you were just as level headed as they are, so as not to upset you. And after all, it was just the one time." 

Gadget opened her mouth but her reply stalled in her throat. Her eyes were locked with Ratigan's. He was smiling at her innocently. She wanted to tell him a deliberate lie. To tell him that it had been the only time the boys had kept something from her that she had a right to know. But it was against her nature. This time, Gadget did not fill up the silence. She let it grow until the space between her side of the bars and his seemed as wide as the Atlantic Ocean. 

"Before I forget, what would you like me to call you, instead of Miss Hackwrench?"

"Gadget. Just Gadget." She said in a bleak voice. 

"Gadget, then. You can call me James, if you want." He invited. 

"No thank you. I think I prefer calling you Professor." It implied her position was subordinate to Ratigan's but she accepted that, rather than risk having her invitation to use her first name misinterpreted as an opportunity to flirt. 

"Are you alright, Gadget? You look sick." Ratigan worried. 

Gadget weighed up her possible responses. "I'm fine." 

"You're sure?"

"Quite sure. It's just… I feel so alone, suddenly. Talking about my friends just then. They feel so remote now."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

Gadget considered it. "It's just that… It wasn't the only time. That they kept something that I needed to know from me, I mean." Resting her elbows on her knees, she let her chin sink into her hands. "They didn't tell me that someone was impersonating me. That people were talking about me. And because I didn't know, I didn't deny it to anyone, so more and more people began to take the rumours seriously. When I did find out, it was a stupid accident, so I couldn't tell them what I was doing about it without looking like an eavesdropper and having an argument with them about whether they should have told me in the first place." 

"So what did you do?" 

"I went to a friend's place. I had a plan about changing my appearance so that no one could impersonate me. It wasn't long after that that I got drugged and then arrested." 

"Hmmm." Ratigan's index finger toyed with his lip thoughtfully. "You mean the reason you're in this place is that your friends keep things from you? Because they think you are… damaged? Broken even?"

Broken. Gadget did feel that way sometimes, when she thought of her father. When she was alone and it was late at night. When her latest invention didn't work, in spite of her best efforts, and she had finally realised that she could never make it work; that it was beyond her ability to make whatever idea had inspired her into a reality. 

"I suppose." She agreed absentmindedly. She was too busy wondering whether she really was broken to notice that she had just blamed her friends for her imprisonment, even though she had blamed herself before. 

"And they still keep secrets from you. You deserve better, don't you, Gadget?"

"I think so. I've tried to be good to them." Her voice suggested that her attention was still elsewhere.

"Gadget? What are you thinking about?" 

"Oh, I was just wondering what I would be like if I hadn't met them. I think I would be alone, a little crazy, maybe. I suppose I should be grateful." She phrased it like an admission but the truth was even a master of understatement couldn't describe the Gadget Hackwrench she had imagined as only a little crazy.

"Grateful that they keep secrets from you, or that they think you're mentally unstable?" Ratigan's tone was openly cutting now. He was reasonably sure that Gadget was too now thinking too deeply to notice. She was an innocent and, like many innocents Ratigan had known, she tended to be obtuse about things like tone of voice and body language.

"What? Neither. Why would I be grateful for them being like that?" 

"You said you were grateful. But you're right. Why should you be grateful for friends like that?"

Gadget blinked. She knew that wasn't what she had said, or meant, but she assumed that Ratigan had misunderstood her. It never entered her head that he was trying to guide her. She was as innocent as Ratigan believed. 

For the moment. 

It wouldn't last. Ratigan smiled to himself. Every day he would come to her, her only friend and confidant. Every day he would drip a little more poison in her ear, lead her a little further astray, until the day when that bright optimistic light in her eyes dulled to the glazed look of fear, anger and weariness that convicts usually had. 

"Ah, well. My time's up, I'm afraid. I'll be back soon enough and you can tell me all your problems then. I'll always be happy to hear about your problems, Gadget Hackwrench." Ratigan's smile was rich with hidden meaning. 

"Very well." Gadget nodded back and forced a weak smile. She was determined to watch him closely this time, so that she could see him leave. Not that she was superstitious, or still thought he was a figment of her imagination. She just wanted to see how he did it. 

Ratigan smiled at her. Then, very slowly and deliberately, he raised his open hand to his mouth and yawned, stretching as he did so. 

Gadget felt her jaw twitch against her will. She held back as long as she could but it was no good. She yawned and, as she did, she could not resist closing her eyes for a second. When she opened them, Ratigan was gone.  

"Drat!" Gadget cussed mildly, crossed her arms and sank back onto the bed. 

No one could blame her for being grouchy and irritable. She didn't belong here. It wasn't fair. And she told herself firmly, whatever she had told herself before, this wasn't her fault. She had made a few mistakes, sure, but nothing she had ever done in her life deserved being caged up like this. In fact, every mistake she'd ever made added together didn't add up to enough to merit this.

71

No one could blame her for being grouchy and irritable. She didn't belong here. It wasn't fair. And she told herself firmly, whatever she had told herself before, this wasn't her fault. She had made a few mistakes, sure, but nothing she had ever done in her life deserved being caged up like this. In fact, every mistake she'd ever made added together didn't add up to enough to merit this.

Lawhiney was laid up in another private room after the run in with Brandon. Chip had insisted that the hospital find her another room, because criminals now knew the location of her old room. 

The doctors had been frightened half to death by what had nearly happened, even more so when someone suggested that she hadn't been ready to go home but they had tried to send her anyway to get the reporters out of their hospital. 

As a result Lawhiney was now in an unfamiliar room with a large orderly permanently stationed outside the door. Her stitches had come undone the first time Brandon attacked her. The doctors had been afraid to give her an aesthetic after Doctor Bell had arrived on the scene and had a low, muttered conversation with his colleagues. After that the more senior staff had agreed that, although she had formerly been discharged from hospital, she should remain his patient. They had left Doctor Bell to gently pick at the damaged thread that wormed its way across Lawhiney's belly. 

Not carefully enough, Lawhiney scowled. She snaked a hand under the crisp hospital sheets to scratch where the blood had clotted around the new stitches. Her fingers felt strange against the skin where the fur had been shaved again, just as it was starting to grow back. 

Monty had come in to see her early this morning. He had stood there with tears in his eyes, the big dummy, and told her how sorry they were that he and Dale had been duped into following the false trail when she need them most. She had resisted the brief impulse to feel genuinely sorry for him and rasped that it was okay. She had asked after Chip, because she guessed that was what Gadget would have done. Monty had told her that Chip had taken quite a beating – his nose was broken, effecting his speech and sense of smell, but it also now made him look almost exactly like Dale. Dale couldn't stop teasing him about it. The fact that Chip was still seeing double meant that so far Dale had escaped punishment for this, although, since Chip had a fifty-fifty chance each try, it could only be a matter of time. 

Monty had wondered why her face had gone pale when he said that. Lawhiney had seen it written on his face. She had asked him to let her rest and he had left her alone. 

It was only a matter of time before the odds ran out on Dale, Lawhiney thought, and it was only a matter of time before the odds ran out on her. 

She wanted to run but knew it would be impossible for several weeks at least. The doctors had been clear about that. No running, no walking, no standing on her own two feet for at least six weeks and she should count herself lucky she wasn't a human or it would have been much longer. 

Lawhiney had hoped that she would spend the six weeks in hospital and safely away from the Rangers for most of that time but Doctor Bell had disillusioned her. Three days for observation, he had said, and then she'd be sent home. Unless there was something wrong. He didn't actually say that last bit but it was implied. What would be the point in keeping her in to "observe" her if they were only going to say, "Yep, something wrong, alright. Now get out of here!" when the three days were up?

The thought had followed in Lawhiney's mind that she could extend the period by making herself appear sick. She had been a great malingerer as a child. But these were professional doctors, she reminded herself, she wouldn't be able to fool them if she didn't have real symptoms. She would have to make herself sick to stay here longer and that might harm her baby. That was the one thing that she could never do. 

She was trapped. However good her Gadget impersonation was, it wouldn't stand up to being actually living with the Rescue Rangers. It was hard enough to get through visiting hours without saying something that made them raise their eyebrows or look at her oddly. 

Squeezing her eyes tight shut against the tears that were welling up from deep inside her, Lawhiney tried to hold on to some sense of control. Everything was working against her, conspiring towards the moment when a sea of grim faces would surround her and the handcuffs were slapped on. She had nightmares almost every night now. Last night it was falling. The night before she had dreamed that the doctors and the Rangers knew everything and were merely pretending to go along with her impersonation to justify sending her to some horrible madhouse that was worse than any prison. 

She hated the nightmares but she was glad that she had asked them to leave the lights turned down so that she could catch up on her sleep. It meant that if anyone came in she would have a couple of seconds to brush any tears away and prepare her lies. 

Lawhiney heard a slight noise beside her. She hadn't heard the door but the light switch for the bedside lamp was by her hand. She opened her eyes to see a bright light overhead. Everything was blurred and misty. If she hadn't already had one near-death experience that month, she might well have started rehearsing some fast talking patter to get her through the pearly gates. Knowing better, she was having none of it. 

"Someone get that damn light out of my eyes!" she snarled. 

A large, dark shadow eclipsed the light. Lawhiney squinted at it. 

"Well that's fine language for someone who could just as easily be talking to Saint Peter. Again, I might add." Her spirit guide reproved her. 

"Well, I'm not, no thanks to you." Lawhiney stated. 

"I gave you plenty of help."

"You did?"

"Yep. I told you exactly what to do in order to avoid that happening. You just didn't want to do it." 

"I was thinking of a more active kind of assistance. But I guess you're not exactly a hands on kind a guy, are you?" 

"Unlike your friend, Brandon, who is now in the custody of the Street Watch." 

"That's not funny." Lawhiney said quietly. Then she was quiet for a while. 

The guide allowed her to be quiet. It made a nice change, he thought, and it meant that she was thinking (which was also a nice change). When she had reached a conclusion she would talk, probably expecting him to talk her into what she really wanted to do.

When she eventually spoke, her voice was quiet and to the point. "I want to change." 

The guide took a deep breath and smiled in the depths of his hood. As quietly as possible he whispered a grateful prayer that he'd lived… uh, been able to hear that. 

"You know what you have to do then. Confess everything and accept the consequences." He said; his tone carefully balanced between being firm and gentle. 

"No." Lawhiney looked at him with her lower lip sticking out. Her voice was high and childish.

Her guide took a deep breath and put his hands on his hips. "Now see here, young lady…" 

"No." Lawhiney repeated. 

The guide saw that her eyes had taken on a slightly glazed look and realised that any argument would be on the level of an adult talking to a five year old. "Why no?" he asked gently. 

"I don't want give birth, alone, in a prison and have my baby taken away." She said. 

"I told you before: What you were shown is most likely to happen if you do not repent your wicked ways and start living your life right." 

"Will I go to jail if I do repent?" Lawhiney asked him, her eyes huge.

The guide hesitated. He couldn't lie to her – his conditions of employment forbade it. 

"Yes." He told her.

"Will I give birth alone, in prison?" 

The guide looked at his feet and bit his lip. "Well, not entirely alone. I'll be with you." He smiled at her and pretended to pat her hand, although the absence of a physical body meant that Lawhiney felt nothing. 

Lawhiney's eyes narrowed and her voice lost its child-like quality. "Will they take my baby away?"

The pause between them could only be described as pregnant. 

"I'm afraid so." The guide admitted.

Lawhiney pulled her self up onto her elbows, so that she was nose to nose with him. "If my child ever finds out how he was born, he won't find out that his mother did less than everything she could to keep him." 

The guide nodded, accepting and understanding her feelings at one and the same time. He could even admire them. It seemed that his mission to reform Lawhiney had floundered on the one laudable part of her character. While he was thinking about it, he failed to notice Lawhiney's face hardening against him.

"You weren't there for me." She accused.

The guide looked guilty for a moment, then glared at her. "That's right and you know why, too. You can destroy your life if you want to, but don't expect me to watch."

"You could have helped."

The guide hesitated. "I asked. They wouldn't let me."

"You seemed to think that I was a goner." Lawhiney said petulantly. 

"I did. They give us these forecasts, you see. It looked grim for you. Brandon had it all worked out and the chances of him changing his mind like that…" 

Lawhiney lay back on the bed and looked at the ceiling. "He wanted to murder me but he changed his mind." Her eyes met those of her guide. "Why was that?"

"Why did he want to strangle you or why did he change his mind?" 

Lawhiney scowled at him.

"Lawhiney, I've only been with you a week and a half, counting the time before you woke up, and I've already wanted to wring your neck more times than I can remember. And in case you hadn't noticed, I'm supposed to be one of the good guys." 

The guide chuckled hopefully but Lawhiney didn't join in. He sighed. 

"Okay, fine. Look, I don't know Brandon. I've never met Brandon. But…" The guide's eyes softened. "He does remind me of someone… a long time ago. 

"I think he really was in love with you, but he was so used to being a tough-guy that he didn't know how to deal with the feeling. He was probably green with envy every time you batted your eyelids at another male but he couldn't admit he was jealous without admitting how he felt about you and that was the one thing he couldn't do. 

"When he thought you were dead he finally had to up face how he felt about you and he had to face up to losing you at the same time. That must have taken a heavy toll. Then something gave him an excuse to be angry at you and he was so used to feeling angry with the whole world that he grabbed the emotion like a lifeline and clung on to it for all he was worth." 

The guide smiled down at Lawhiney sadly. "Does that make sense to you?" He asked her. 

Lawhiney thought about it for a long time, her face sad. "I said something similar to him in the elevator but I was talking about me, not him. I said that if I had ever loved anyone, I had probably crushed the feeling like a bug without ever really knowing what it was, for fear of being weak." 

Her guide sat beside her. The part of the bed under him remained as flat as a plank of wood. "I dare say that's true. But the fact that you could face that and admit it to yourself and to another person, that shows that you are changing and for the better."

They were both quiet for a time. Eventually, Lawhiney asked a question. Her voice was shaky and uncertain, as though it were travelling down a difficult and unfamiliar path. "What about Brandon?"

The guide's jaw dropped. Truly, he thought, miracles never cease. 

"Well, I asked around and it seems that Brandon's had his own guide for quiet a while. Apparently, she could never do much with him until yesterday, but now that's all changed."

"What he did for me should count in his favour, right? With your people, I mean." 

"Well, it was a selfless action for the benefit of another person and it cost him a great deal." The guide allowed. "But it was also done to sustain a great injustice. Gadget is still in jail, in your place, and a she could come to great harm there." He reminded her, reprovingly. 

"She's a Rescue Ranger, she should be used to it. Should be used to looking after herself, too." Lawhiney said.

The Guide shook his head ruefully. She still had a ways to go. Ah well, you could only expect so many miracles in one day. 

72

Gadget was sitting on a chair made from matchsticks, a bottle cap and wood glue. Although she knew it was daylight somewhere up above, she was somewhere around sewer level, back in the tiny room where Doctor Schadenfreude had first visited her. She suddenly realised how long it had been since she had last seen the sun. Her trial had been during the day but the windowless courtroom had been located in the attic of a cigar shop and she had seen no sunlight then. It had been evening when they took her into the sewers to be transported to the prison and she had been below ground ever since. The last sunlight she had seen, she remembered, was when she had been on the way to the café with the French rat who had drugged her. 

Call the day I was arrested day one, she thought, the day I was tried and sentenced day two. They should have kept me in the holding cells overnight and shipped me off to prison the following morning, but they didn't for some reason, so I arrived here on day two. I spent the first night with my hair tied to the bars of a cell after the inmates heard me say who I was, so day two ran into day three for me, which was when I got to see the warden. She thought I was crazy and put me away in here, and my first session with Schadenfreude was the next day, day four. He always sees patients on the same day of the week that he originally saw them, so seven days have passed since then. 

There was no calendar, weather, television, or friendly conversations to make one day different from any other and give her something to remember any particular day by, so the days had run together. It meant that counting the days she had been confined required careful thought, even though Gadget was an intuitive mathematician and knew the answer to difficult maths problems the way most people knew where their hands were without looking. 

Doctor Schadenfreude entered the cell. He was wearing the same white coat that she had last seen him in and carrying the same briefcase. Gadget expected him to repeat the performance of using the chair, table and briefcase as a stepladder so he could hang by his feet from the bars in the roof of the cage. Instead, he put the briefcase on the table and opened it, before pulling out a pair of earmuffs. 

Gadget looked at the earmuffs. 

"Uh, Doctor, correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't the whole point of this that you're supposed to listen to me?" 

"Oh Yah." Doctor Schadenfreude agreed. "But last time you got into my face and shouted at me and I had a ringing in my ears for several hours afterwards that made listening to the part of the infrasonic spectrum very difficult. It was most annoying. So this time I will be wearing the protective earmuffs during our little interview. Do not worry, my little potato in a jacket. I have very fine hearing. I will be able to hear your every word and possibly also the gurgling of your stomach." 

Gadget found herself perilously close to accusing the psychiatrist of being insane. She suppressed the urge. Bats did have astounding hearing, she reminded herself. She shouldn't have shouted at him last time and it would do no good shouting at him this time. 

"Well," she began when the Doctor was comfortable. "First off I'd like to make it quite clear that when the orderly looked in at me and saw me making strange faces at him I was just trying to smother a sneeze and I didn't realise that I was being watched until he closed the peephole again, or I would have explained. And that time someone checked on me and I was banging my head against the floor – I know it's exactly the kind of thing that might be a symptom of obsessive compulsive behaviour but I was just so incredibly bored with the being locked in a cell all the time."

Doctor Schadenfreude frowned at her and lifted one of the muffs away from his ear. "What? I didn't quiet hear that." 

Gadget took a deep breath. "Doctor, I thought you said that you would be able to hear everything up to and including my digestive processes." 

"Yah, I mean, yes. I think that perhaps there must be something wrong with my hearing. Everything seems normal, yet the mouse I purchased the earmuffs from definitely said that they had been returned by a bat who complained that he could still hear too much noise to sleep while wearing them. Perhaps I should be cancelling our appointment and seeking the opinion of a doctor." 

"Doctor, our session is only ten minutes long. And we've just had three minutes of that!"

"Are you sure? I could have sworn I had been here longer. Five minutes at least."

"No, three. I have a very good sense of time. Usually. Being in here hasn't helped. But it's definitely three minutes." 

"No, no. It must be four minutes, at least." 

"It's three minutes." 

"Are you sure?"

"Very." 

Doctor Schadenfreude had not shut his briefcase. He was peering into it with a squint as if there was something crawling around in it. Her curiosity piqued, Gadget frowned. Without realising it, she was trying to rise out of the chair and peek into the briefcase. Schadenfreude caught her and fixed her with raised eyebrows and an amused stare. He reached in and brought out an old-fashioned pocket watch. 

Gadget returned his stare coolly. 

"Now it's four minutes." She said after a few seconds silence.

The psychiatrist fleetingly broke eye contact to look at the watch. When he looked back he gave her a grudging smile. "Ach, they say your sense of time is the first thing to go when you start to lose your grip on reality, you know. But it's just an old wives tale."

"Then why spend four minutes of our session on it?"

"It proves nothing that you have a good sense of time. A bad sense of time on the other hand, or should I say wing, might have been a symptom of certain kinds of neurological disorders." 

"And the earmuffs?"

"Quiet genuine, I intend to wear them for all my shouty patients from now on. I have not tried them before but I noted your lack of reaction to them as most interesting." 

"There was a bat called Foxglove who was a good friend to all of the rangers for a time. But she left to look for her family and we haven't heard from her since. I wish I knew where she was. She had super hearing. She could tell that I'm the real Gadget before I even opened my mouth, just by listening to my heartbeat."

"Isn't it possible that she will hear of your plight and come to your rescue?" The Doctor asked slyly. 

"She'll hear the same thing as everyone else on the outside and assume that I'm an evil impostor who's getting everything she deserves."

"I'd like you to think back over what you said a moment ago. You said: There was a bat called Foxglove who was a good friend to all of the rangers for a time."

"Yes."

"Not us rangers?"

Gadget allowed herself enough time to blink before answering. "It's a perfectly acceptable way of phrasing it, even if I am a Ranger myself."

The doctor watched her closely. She watched back. 

"Yes, it is." He conceded. 

"Doctor, even if I'm not crazy now, I'm worried that the boredom will drive me crazy before I can leave this place."

"If you're not crazy?" 

"Please stop doing that. I'm sure that there are a lot of things that I've said, and that I probably will say, that could be taken to out of context to suggest that I'm crazy, or lying. I could check every single thing that I say three times before I say it out loud but I don't think it would really achieve anything except maybe to slow down the speed that I talk at a little. After all, if I really was an impostor, that's probably exactly what I would be doing. I'm not an impostor. I don't want to have to act like one just to persuade people that I'm not. If I was an impostor, I probably would have escaped by now."

Doctor Schadenfreude raised one eyebrow, but did not say that anything that slowed down the speed at which Gadget spoke at would be a worthwhile achievement. He was a bat and could cope but he knew a great many other creatures could not. Instead he asked: "If you could escape at any time, why do you remain here?"

"Because I'm a Rescue Ranger. Escaping from lawful custody is a crime. I'm supposed to uphold the law and breaking out just because I don't agree with the decision of a judge would be hypocrisy."

"Even if the decision the judge has made in your case is based on a mistaken identity?"

"Even then! You see it's like engineering. A system, whatever it is, works the way it should do it's own or it needs repairing. It just… it just needs a little time sometimes, like an engine in cold weather." Gadget looked like she was about to cry. "Doctor, I miss my friends so much. I love them; they're the closest thing to a family I have left. And every day that I'm being kept from them is like a day of my life that's been stolen from me. I know I'll get to see them eventually because this has to get sorted out sooner or later, but it's not like I'll get the time I've spent in here tacked onto the end of my life expectancy or anything like that."

"Ach, you must be very sad. Let it out. Let it out, young lady."

Gadget sniffled for a moment, but resisted the urge to cry openly. It would cost too much of her precious session time. "Doctor, please. You can see that I'm rational. I'm not raving. I mean what I say and I'm not crazy. There must be a rational, logical argument that can persuade you that I am a sane person. Should I tell you what I know of engineering, aerodynamics, chemistry and first aid? Build you a new invention, here on the table top, from scrap wire, cardboard and an elastic band?" 

"Please, young lady. I am not being supposed to determine your identity. My job is merely to determine whether you are being addled in the head or not. If your head is screwed on right and not merely screwed, you will then have to return to the normal prison population and take up your fight to have the nature of your identity determined there. If you are being successful, I am sure that your lawyer will be able to appeal your conviction successfully." Doctor Schadenfreude said, trying to sound upbeat about it. "In the meantime, you absolutely must not be trying to persuade me that you are not crazy. I am a professional psychiatrist and my job is to assess whether your normal thinking processes fall on the right or the wrong side of the line between being alright in the head and being totally doolally. I cannot do this if you are not thinking and behaving as comes naturally."

Gadget gaped at him. "You mean to say that even if I convince you that I'm not crazy, I'm still not going to be released? Surely, if I'm not mad then that means you have to accept I am who I say I am. And if I am Gadget Hackwrench, then that means I have to be released!" she insisted. 

"If?" Doctor Schadenfreude asked, gently.

"Don't make me repeat my self! I already-" Gadget stopped herself at the sight of Doctor Schadenfreude placing the earmuffs over his ears again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout. I promise I won't do it again."

"What's that?" 

"I promise not to shout anymore." She repeated, a little louder. 

"I can't quite hear you. It is a shame the amount of noise these earmuffs block cannot be adjusted." He reflected. "They would have been a good idea, otherwise." 

"I said, I promise not to shout!" Gadget yelled. "Golly, I'm sorry! I didn't realise that you were taking them off again." 

The bat shuddered, his wings over the ears. "Young lady, you are a most cruel person, I think. That is not at all funny and if you are thinking that it is, then you are being most mistaken." 

Gadget was aghast. She had never been called cruel in her whole life. "I'm sorry!" She said. "Please, Doctor, I didn't mean it. I'm very sorry."

"Very well, I accept your apology. Now, I believe that concludes this week's session." The Doctor said, standing up. 

"Concludes? But doctor, we've barely scratched the surface. You haven't even inverted yourself. Don't you want to hang from the roof of the cage again, like you did last week?" 

"I would but the ear muffs fall off, I have discovered." 

 "Please, doctor, a little longer."

"Even if I did not have another patient to go to, what would be the point? You insist that you are not insane. If you are not mad, I cannot treat you." 

"I… I have something important to tell you, something I should have told you last week only I forgot."

"If it's so important, why didn't you tell an orderly? They're here to help you, you know."

"I tried but she said she wasn't interested in any of my tall tales. My conviction is for fraud and misrepresentation. That's lying. It doesn't inspire much confidence."

"And why should I believe you either?"

"You can check for evidence. If you find something that confirms what I tell you then you'll know that I'm telling the truth. You have an understanding of scientific method. First, observe the subject, then formulate a theory, then test the theory under controlled conditions." 

"I take it you wish my theory to be that you are sane and Gadget Hackwrench and that you are about to send me on some wild goose chase that is supposed to prove it. I am not interested, young lady."

"No! It's about someone else, someone I was sharing a cell with before the warden sent me here. Her name is Bubbles McGee. She was sentenced to fifteen years for her part in a warehouse robbery."

"That much is certainly easy to check. I must be talking to the warden before I leave today anyway." 

"Her share of the loot was never recovered. She told me that she was being bullied by one of the officers, who wanted the loot for her self. She said the guard had hit her." 

"Really? And you are worried that this mistreatment might have continued, now after two weeks of doing nothing?"

"I told you, the orderly-"

"Didn't believe you, yes, you said. If what you have told me is true, then after ten days such treatment your friend must surely have given in to this guard."

"Perhaps, but I'm still worried about her." 

"And you want me to do something about this?" 

"If you could talk to the warden, just ask her to see Bubbles for herself. Give Bubbles a chance to make the complaint herself, direct to the warden." Gadget looked at him with pleading eyes. She wasn't intentionally using her looks to influence the doctor, but it would have been a strong male who could have resisted.

The Doctor sighed. "Very well. You make your case well, young mouse lady, whoever you are. Do you have the name of the guard your friend accused of harming her?" 

"Haggs, Officer Haggs." Gadget spoke with tone of distaste. 

Doctor Schadenfreude looked at her with some interest. "Do you have any reason to be resentful of Officer Haggs yourself? If you do, you had better tell me now. It would look bad if it came out after I spoke to the warden. As if you were trying to get someone into trouble."

Gadget hesitated, wondering if Doctor Schadenfreude would do anything at all if she admitted the truth. Her natural honesty won through. "Yes. I do resent her. I made a silly mistake when I arrived here and she pretended to be nice about it. But it was just so that the other prisoners would laugh when she hit me."

"Well, prison is a very rough place and takes hard people to control them properly. Prison reform, it is a slow process but things have come a long way, I am being told, since the old days." 

"Then later, when I did the right thing and handed over a lock pick I was carrying, she, Officer Haggs I mean, wanted to take me away for one of those horrible searches where they-" 

"Yes, quite, I know about the searches!" Doctor Schadenfreude said rapidly. 

"I was lucky and the Deputy Warden stopped her but then she locked me into a cell with all these mean old hardened convicts who heard me say who I was and they tied my hair to the bars of the cell!"

"Haggs or the Deputy Warden?"

"Well who do you think? Haggs, of course! And the next day she suspended all my privileges for nothing at all!" 

"Yes, so it's fair to say that you have some feelings of resentment towards this particular guard?" The Doctor said wryly.

"Well, wouldn't you?" Gadget protested. "But that's not the point! I just want to know that Bubbles is okay and that she's being properly looked after. I'm not asking you to do anything to Haggs or do anything official at all unless you decide Bubbles is in danger." 

"I see. Hmmm. If this Miss McGee is your friend, how do I know the two of you have not arranged some charade between the two of you to- (What is the phrase?) -frame this guard who you both despise so much?" 

"I've been in here for two weeks! I met Bubbles on the barge to prison for the first time, where we were watched. They only moved me into her cell the morning of the day that I was transferred to the psychiatric wing, so I've only spent about three hours with her." 

"Long enough, but I take your point."

"Doctor, weigh the evidence as you like but consider how you would feel if you ignored me and what I said turned out to be true." Gadget looked at him with her big blue eyes again. 

"Very well." The doctor surrendered. "I will look into your claim. But if I am finding it not to be genuine I shall be very annoyed, young mouse-woman. Possibly, I shall return you to the rubber room instead of the cell you have now." 

Having given her the sternest warning that he could, Doctor Schadenfreude packed away his earmuffs and left her to worry about whether she should have kept her mouth shut. 


	13. No Good Deed

**_Disclaimer_**

_In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone…  except a certain kind of lawyer._

**Chapter Thirteen**

**No Good Deed…**

73

An hour later Doctor Schadenfreude knocked on the door of the warden's office and entered when the voice from the other side called "Come in". 

"My dear Doctor!" Warden Phelps was a neat but plain mouse lady who wore a frilly shirt and a long string of glass beads with her sombre business suit. She beamed at him as if he were a favourite pupil. "How nice to see you again." 

"And to see you, too. I have come direct from my session with the young lady who is not Gadget Hackwrench." Doctor Schadenfreude explained. 

The Warden blinked rapidly. It took her several moments to work out which young lady who wasn't Gadget Hackwrench he was talking about. There were, of course, billions of people who weren't Gadget Hackwrench but only one of them, so far as Warden Phelps was aware, could be described that way and be identified from all the other people who weren't Gadget Hackwrench either by that description alone.

"Oh. Prisoner 24601." The Warden said carefully. "Have you something to tell me?" For a split and giddy second she thought he was going to tell her the mouse in the straitjacket really was Gadget Hackwrench and that everyone was about to look incredibly silly in a very public way.

"Ach, she has told me some tale about her cellmate being at risk from a guard. Do you have any reason to think that one Bubbles McGee is being threatened or bullied by anyone?" 

"McGee, McGee… Oh yes, I remember the name. She's an old hand. Been a professional criminal since she was old enough to leave home. Served three years when she was just twenty-one and now she's back with us until she's in her forties; felony robbery of a human warehouse for non-essential profits and/or gains, endangering society with exposure or potential exposure to humanity during the commission of a felony. She was trying to settle down and go straight, until her partner left her without any way of supporting her children, apparently."

"Ach, separating a mother from her children is always hard on everyone."

"Better than the alternative, Doctor." the Warden laughed. "We can hardly have children running around in here!"

"I agree, a most unsuitable place to raise a child. But do you have any reason to believe that she is being intimidated, bullied by anyone?"

"Well, I do seem to remember Marion saying that Bubbles had been to the medical wing four times in her first week here."

"Really? She is unwell for medical reasons, or is the cause psychosomatic, brought on by stress from being separated from her children perhaps?" 

"Hard to say. Marion mentioned a bloody nose and stomach pains. I think we'd better have her in and see what she has to say about this." 

"Who? Marion or Mrs McGee?" 

"Both, I think." She pushed a button on the intercom and asked her secretary to page the deputy warden. "And send someone to find Bubbles McGee and bring her to my office." 

Marion, the Deputy Warden, was the tubby chipmunk lady who had found Gadget swinging by her hair the morning after she arrived in Shrankshaw prison. 

"It's certainly possible." Marion admitted. "She's had stomach pains, abdominal cramps, nose bleeds and yesterday she told me that she'd cut her lip by biting down on it while eating her food too quickly." 

"But someone could have been hitting her?" The Warden suggested.

"Yes, on a regular basis. I should have seen it before." 

"Well, she'll be here in a moment and we'll see what she says." Warden Phelps said.

"I should also mention," Doctor Schadenfreude put in, "the young lady, ach it is so difficult to know what to call her without her real name, also alleged that Officer Haggs was the one brutalising the prisoner. However, with a little more probing I discovered that she has a grudge against this particular guard, so I think this must be considered carefully."

"I see. Well, I take a dim view of people casting aspersions against my staff. Particularly over something as petty as a few weeks privileges." The warden's tone arched, like the back of an angry cat. 

"The Jane Doe I am assessing in the special wing mentioned the loss of privileges, as well as many other things. She said she herself had been struck by Officer Haggs when she arrived at the prison." Schadenfreude frowned disapprovingly. 

"That may be true…" the Deputy Warden put in. "I've had concerns about Margo Haggs using excessive force to pacify difficult inmates for some time now, but I've never had any solid evidence to back up my suspicions." A memory sparked in her eyes. "The girl's lip did look a bit swollen when I saw her being processed with the new inmates." 

"That might not have had anything to do with Haggs. If you remember, there was some trouble on the barge that brought her." The warden mused. "Haggs is a very efficient officer. The Department of Corrections certainly love her."

"She's been a bit of a problem child in the past." Marion, the Deputy Warden, murmured in a low voice she meant only the warden to hear.

Warden Phelps grimaced. She knew well how hard it was to keep a secret from a bat. "Whatever friction there has been between Officer Haggs and the rest of us, I will not believe the first bad word I hear against her without evidence, especially when it comes from someone in the psychiatric wing who has been convicted of fraud and deception." She said in a normal speaking voice. 

The intercom buzzed and the secretary announced Bubbles McGee… accompanied by Officer Haggs.

"Send them in." The warden answered. "I'll do the talking." She told Doctor Schadenfreude and the deputy warden, firmly. 

Bubbles seemed thoroughly down in the mouth when she was led in. Her ears were laid back, almost completely hidden behind her curly black hair. Her light grey facial fur gave her a permanently pale appearance but looking at Bubbles' nose and the pink parts of her ears, the warden noted that they seemed bloodless, almost as white as her fur. Bubbles looked back at the warden from under a heavy fringe with one mistrustful eye, the other eye being completely hidden under her unruly hair. 

"Ah, McGee." The warden began. "I'm told that you've been unwell a good deal since joining us." 

"I'm very sorry warden. I'll try not to be so much trouble in the future." Bubbles said quickly and miserably. 

"You aren't in any trouble, McGee. What seems to be the matter with you?"

"I've… been having a lot of trouble with my insides. It's the food, I guess." Bubbles said.

"I'm told you've been having nosebleeds. Food can't cause that."

"Quite right." Haggs interrupted in a harsh voice. "It's all malingering if you ask me." 

"Perhaps I'll ask you later." Said the warden, meaningfully. 

"I must have high blood pressure or something." Bubbles' voice was subdued. "The stress from being in here again." 

"How are the other prisoners treating you? I hear you have a whole cell to yourself now. You're very fortunate."

"I wouldn't mind sharing; not at all. I'd be grateful for the company. If you wanted to put someone in with me, anyone at all…" 

"Really?" the warden raised her eyebrows. Single cells that prisoners didn't have to share were highly prized. There were two ways to get them. You could be so good that guards wanted to reward you, or so bad that they were afraid to put anyone else in the same cell as you. "Most prisoners would be very glad to have their own space."

"I'm…"

"Ungrateful. That's what you are. You ought be thanking Warden Phelps, not making her waste her valuable time on you."

"Please, Officer Haggs, I know how to deal with prisoners." 

Haggs' expression said otherwise, but the officer fell silent. 

Turning back to Bubbles, Warden Phelps continued. "You didn't answer my earlier question. How are the other prisoners treating you?" 

"Oh fine! No problems at all. I've made lots of new friends and everyone's been very nice!" 

Warden Phelps frowned. "Very nice" didn't sound like the Shrankshaw prisoners she knew and worried about on a nightly basis. "Very nice?" she repeated slowly. "Ah ha, are you sure?"

"Oh yes!" Bubbles nodded her head enthusiastically. 

"Has the doctor given you any antidepressants?"

"Oh, no." This time Bubbles shook her head, just as enthusiastically. In the process, the mop of hair that was covering her hidden eye was shaken away, revealing an ugly bruise. 

The jaws of the warden, the deputy warden and Doctor Schadenfreude all dropped. The warden recovered first, blinking rapidly. "Um, uh, you have a black eye." She said.

Bubbles was hastily re-arranging her hair to cover the offending organ again. "No, I don't!" she said in a panic. 

Three pairs of eyes blinked at Bubbles from in front of her. She could feel another pair beside her, glowering at her. Say the wrong thing now and you'll regret it, Bubbles knew that truth so well that she didn't need to hear it. 

"Um, yes you do. I saw it." The warden said. 

"No, you must be mistaken." Bubbles knew this was a stupid way to handle it but now she had made the denial she was stuck with it. 

"Bubbles, we all saw it!" The deputy warden objected. Beside her, Doctor Schadenfreude nodded. 

"It's probably just my eye shadow?" Bubbles improvised wildly. 

"You put all your eye shadow on one eye?" The deputy asked incredulously. 

"Um… I'm thinking of going Goth! I mean, I'm in here, I'm depressed because I'm in prison and I just thought it was a look that could really, you know, work for me."

"But why on earth would you only put make up on one eye?"

"Well, I was going to do both eyes, but then I ran out of make up."

"Which isn't allowed in prison in the first place, as I recall." The warden pointed out. 

Haggs heavy hand clamped down on Bubbles shoulder. Bubbles winced like someone who had just been prodded somewhere that was already painful. "Having contraband is a serious matter, McGee. You just bought yourself a-" 

"That won't be necessary, Officer Haggs!" The warden snapped. 

Officer Haggs looked genuinely put out. "Why, I'm only trying to do my job, warden!"

"Yes, I'm sure you are. However, I don't think we need to get put out over a little make up." Her own tastes in make up ran to heavy blue eye shadow, on both eyes, naturally. She had always felt slightly guilty for wearing it herself and then having to occasionally punish people for doing the same.

"Warden, she isn't wearing any make up! That's a black eye!" the deputy warden said, disbelievingly. 

"No it isn't." Bubbles repeated. 

"Why don't you just brush your hair back and let us take a look at it, Bubbles? Then we can decide for ourselves." The warden said firmly. 

Reluctantly, Bubbles raised a hand to her face. The warden nodded encouragingly.  Very slowly, Bubbles took hold of the offending curls of hair. The warden looked at her impatiently. Bubbles lifted the hair - for half a second!

"See!" She squeaked as soon as she had covered the eye again. "There's nothing there but eye shadow!"

"Bubbles McGee," the Warden said sternly, "lift up that hair so we can see properly, this instant!"

Bubbles hung her head for a moment, torn between having Officer Haggs mad at her and having the Warden, the Deputy Warden and whoever this strange bat was mad at her. The thing was, Haggs was mad at her anyway, because she wouldn't tell Haggs where her share of the loot was. Bubbles lifted her head and, resisting the urge to cry, pushed the hair back, away from her face.

"If that's not a black eye, I don't know what is." The Deputy Warden said after a moment of silence. 

"What about these other problems you've been having? The nosebleeds and the stomach cramps? Are they the same?" The Warden asked.

"No, they're genuine." Bubbles lied carefully. Haggs had to allow her the black eye. There was no way she could have got out of showing that to them. 

"Someone's been hitting you, haven't they? You have to tell us who." 

"One of the other prisoners, jealous of that single cell she's been given, I shouldn't wonder." Haggs supplied helpfully. "I always said it leads to trouble, giving some of them more room than others. No reason we shouldn't have six in every cell, the kind of people we have on the streets these days."

"She can tell us for herself." The Warden said, coldly. "Well, Bubbles? What about it? Who did this?"

"I can't split on another inmate. They'd kill me."

"We can protect you if you tell us who did this."

"I'm not going to **RAT** anyone out!" Bubbles said, twitching the tip of her tail towards Haggs in a pointing gesture as she spoke the word "rat". 

"Bubbles! Really!" The Deputy Warden said in a shocked voice. 

"It's quite alright, I have to live with this kind of stereotyping everyday." Haggs said airily. "I'm quite used to this kind of abuse."

"That hardly excuses it!" The Deputy said, embarrassed. 

"I'm sorry. It was just a figure of speech." Bubbles said in a small voice. 

"Yes, well I think that concludes our interview with you. I'd like you to wait outside for someone to take you to the medical wing for a proper check up." The Warden said, thoughtfully. "In fact, I'd like it if you took her straight away, Marion." 

The Deputy Warden nodded and turned Bubbles towards the door.

The Warden turned to Doctor Schadenfreude. "I'd like to thank you for coming, Doctor, hopefully you've seen enough to form an opinion?" 

"Oh, yah." The Doctor said in a subdued voice. "I have formed an opinion. Now if you will excuse me, I'm having an extra session with one of my more perplexing patients today. I believe the session may be much overdue." Doctor Schadenfreude made his way out.

Officer Haggs made to follow him but the Warden stopped her. 

"Just a moment, Margo. I'd like a word with you." 

The Warden's use of her first name raised Haggs eyebrows. "Certainly." Haggs agreed while struggling to maintain her composure. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Oh, it's not a problem… really. You remember that you're up before the board of promotion soon?"

"Yesss." There was steel in Haggs voice as she bit the word off.

"You've been bucking for a promotion for quite a while."

I should have had your job, Haggs' eyes said. Her mouth said: "I've been passed over twice before, in spite of my record, which as you know is-"

"Exemplary, yes." The Warden finished for her. "I don't really see anything holding you back, except…"

Haggs stared at her, silently. "Yes?" she enquired, eventually.

"You're experience could be seen as a little narrow. You've always worked in the main prison, never really done anything in the specialised areas."

Haggs thought about it for a second. "You mean like the hospital wing, or here in the administration section?"

"Yes. I could arrange some experience for you, if you like. Then it would be one thing they couldn't hold against you." The Warden smiled sweetly. 

"In the area of my choice?"

"Yes. Though I think the medical wing may not have an opening at present." The Warden said, pretending not to notice that limited Officer Haggs' choices, somewhat.

"Oh, that's quite alright, Warden. I prefer to work in the Special Wing, thank you." 

The Warden opened and closed her mouth. She'd missed that one. "Are- Are you quite sure?"

"Yes, I think so. "

"Very well then, I'll fill in the form now." The Warden sat down behind her desk and began writing. At least it would keep Haggs away from Bubbles McGee, the Warden thought. Maybe then Bubbles will find the nerve to tell us what's really been going on. 

"Thank you." Haggs said, taking the form when the Warden was finished. "Psychiatric work has always interested me. All these strange delusions people have. Do you know, I hear that sometimes the suffers can be so convincing that even relatively normal people can be taken in." 

Officer Haggs smiled at the startled Warden and closed the office door, on her way out.

74

Gadget was halfway through her lunch, which was exactly the same as the lunch of the day before and the day before that, when Doctor Schadenfreude visited her. She looked up in surprise, not having expected to see him again until next week. 

"I have been to see the warden, young lady. It is most difficult to know how to refer to you without knowing your name." The Doctor told her.

Gadget looked at him steadily and swallowed the food she had been chewing. "You do know my name, Doctor Schadenfreude." 

"I thought perhaps I did, for a little while. I have seen the warden and passed on your concerns. She at once brought the inmate your allegations were concerning to her office and interviewed her. I believe you told me what was true. She has a black eye." 

"Thank heavens! What's going to happen now?"

"I believe Mrs McGee will be watched most closely from now on and that this creature that you named will not have another chance to traumatise your most unfortunate friend."

"That's a relief. I guess now I have one less thing to worry about. Doctor, can I ask you a question?" 

"Yah, but of course."

"Now that you know I've told you the truth once, are you prepared to reconsider everything else that I've told you?"

The Doctor studied her carefully. "I might be." 

Gadget's face blossomed with a huge and beautiful smile. "Well, is there anything I can do to help you do that?" 

"Let us talk… about the conversations you have been having." Doctor Schadenfreude said.

"Conversations with you?"

"Possibly. How many times do you think we have spoken?"

"Counting this time?"

"No."

"Twice then." 

"Then, no. I'm not interested in our conversations together."

"My conversations with Bubbles?"

"Have you spoken to Bubbles since you were brought into this special part of the prison?"

"No."

"Not those then."

"Well then, that only leaves-" Gadget's face fell. She remembered her promise to Ratigan all too clearly. "I haven't had any conversations since I was put in here." The lie felt like stone in her mouth. 

"No? Are you sure?"

Gadget did not reply. Her face was that of a guilty child. Her ears were back, her brow was furrowed and her smile nervous, hopeful and excited. 

"Young lady, you know you are here so that you can be observed. You have been observed. The orderlies have seen and heard you chatting quiet amiably. To who were you talking?" 

Gadget wanted to tell him. But she wasn't about to break a promise. "No one." 

"No one? You were talking to yourself, then?"

"Yes. I mean, no! I mean I was talking to myself but not like that! Not like, like…"

"Like crazy people do?"

"Right! That's right. I was talking to myself like… everyone does, sometimes. When they're alone. Or you're thinking out loud."

"The orderlies listened very closely on two occasions. They said you were definitely having a conversation. If they made mobile phones for mice, they would have searched you for one."

"Then I'm glad they don't make phones that small yet! Doctor, what if I told you, promised you, that there was a perfectly rational reason why I appeared to be making conversation with myself but that I cannot reveal that reason for perfectly good and valid reasons that I also could not reveal?" Gadget asked.

"Would the reason why you cannot reveal the reason for not revealing your reasons be the same as the reason you cannot reveal your reasons for talking to yourself in the first place?" Doctor Schadenfreude asked, his voice thoughtful as he tried to get the right number of reasons into the sentence.

"Yes, that's it exactly." Gadget beamed. She felt like she was getting somewhere here.

Doctor Schadenfreude sighed deeply. "Young lady, that is a recursive argument. Such logic can be symptoms of many delusional states but in your case I am hoping you are just being difficult." 

"Oh, I am!" Gadget hastened to reassure him. 

"However, I cannot escape the fact that you have been observed on at least one occasion talking to someone who was not there."

"What? Who said that I did that?" Gadget looked startled and, for the first time alarmed.

"Two of the orderlies watched you for some time. You were having one side of a conversation. You were alone." Doctor Schadenfreude watched her reaction closely. 

"No." Gadget said. "I was… with someone." There were tears forming in her eyes. Gadget suddenly felt freedom slipping away from her just when it seemed certain. 

"They said they saw no one." Schadenfreude told her.

"He must have been standing just out of sight." Gadget's voice was shaking with desperation now. 

"You could not have been visited by anyone. You were locked in this cell. The door to this section was locked. The orderlies were by the door and saw no one enter or leave while they were there." Doctor Schadenfreude was being stern now. 

"I wasn't alone."

"Who was with you?"

"I can't say."

"Why not?"

"I promised."

"Who did you promise?"

"I can't say. That was what I promised!"

"You have had no visitors. You can have had no visitors!" 

"Please! I gave my word!"

"You are in here for a set period of observation, young lady, but when someone's symptoms are so pronounced it becomes easy to make a diagnosis."

"I am not crazy!" Gadget wailed.

"You are clearly suffering from the hallucinations!"

"I am not! It's a mistake! I tell you, it's all a gigantic mistake. All of it! Everything!" Gadget was hysterical now.

"Young lady!" Schadenfreude's raised voice silenced her. "I am here to be helping you. Before I can do that, you must accept that you are in need of having my help. You are clearly ill. This discovery could reduce your sentence considerably. Your refusal to accept your condition makes treatment difficult and your own situation much more worse than it can be. You have tried hard to convince me that you are a rational being. I think this is important to you, yes?"

"I am rational. There was someone with me. He must have been standing where they couldn't see him." 

"It is important to you that I think you are rational, yes?"

"Yes!" 

"Then the most rational thing you could do is accept help when it is offered. Help that will improve your situation, entitle you to appeal your sentence and conviction on the grounds of mental incompetence."

Gadget looked at him with a horrible indecision in her eyes. 

Schadenfreude pressed his advantage. "Delusions can be very convincing, very seductive. We do anything we can to protect our dreams because they are what inspire us and keep us going when life is hard, but there comes a time when they claim so much of our lives they become harmful to us. Would it be so terrible to be someone other than Gadget Hackwrench? If you are someone other than Miss Hackwrench, could this person be so utterly unlovable that you reject any possibility of her existence? Would the real Gadget Hackwrench be so unfeeling to a young woman who clearly wished to be so much like her?"

Gadget was reeling with confusion. She was almost distraught. Freedom had been in reach and now, for reasons she could not understand, it was being taken away from her along with any claim she had to sanity. She opened her mouth to deny she was mad… and there, standing behind Doctor Schadenfreude, was Ratigan. 

Gadget blinked. When she opened her eyes again Ratigan was gone. Doctor Schadenfreude was still there, looking at her sternly but with compassion. 

Uncertainty gripped her. Could it be possible that she was, in fact, insane? 

"Doctor?" she began, "Please, I remember my friends… I remember being with Monty, Chip, Dale and Zipper. I remember being chased by Fat Cat and out smarting Rat Capone. They're the best friends a girl could have. You can't tell me those memories aren't real!" 

"I am telling you! They are a fantasy you have used mask some real memory that you cannot face, that lurks in your past and forces you to run from the truth."

"No… Please, no?" 

"Look here, see what I have for you." Doctor Schadenfreude held up the morning newspaper. 

The newspaper showed a photograph of a grey mouse that Gadget didn't know in handcuffs and leg-irons, as he was being lead from the Cosgrove Hotel to a storm drain by two large members of the Street Watch. The caption read: Leader of Museum Robbers Attempts Murder of Gadget Hackwrench – "If it weren't for Gadget Hackwrench I'd be rich. I hope she never leaves that hospital bed!" 

Doctor Schadenfreude put himself nose to nose with Gadget. "Now, young mouse lady, I must ask you: Can you say that there is not the slightest possibility that this story is about the real Gadget Hackwrench and that you are the impostor? Is there not even the slightest shred of doubt in your mind that you are the real Hackwrench?" 

Gadget remembered the brief moment when she had seen Ratigan standing behind the psychiatrist. She knew that the rat could not have been there, yet she had seen him. Self-doubt gnawed away her confidence, leaving her with little else to rely on. 

Tears began to spill down her cheeks, one after another, and she could not answer the psychiatrist. 

  


75

"The only interest in psychiatrics Margo has ever shown is when she plays mind games with people." The Deputy Warden laughed in the Warden's office.

"Those were my thoughts exactly!" Agreed Warden Phelps. "Still, I did offer her a change of duties and that was what she chose."

"But surely she only chose that to get at the prisoner who informed on her."

"I don't see how she could know who to go after. None of us mentioned the informant's name; in fact we couldn't, we don't even know what it is ourselves!" 

"True, but…"

"As a matter of fact, I was thinking that we really ought to do something about that… we can hardly go around calling her Number 24601 for the next fifteen years." 

"Doctor Schadenfreude was standing right next to you the whole time and Margo Haggs knows that Bubbles' cell mate is his latest patient. She could have put two and two together." 

"You may be right, but we'll keep a close eye on things. Hopefully, while Margo Haggs is away, we can persuade McGee to open up to us." 

"Let's hope we can. From what I heard today it's all too easy to believe that Margo's trying to force McGee to hand over her share from that warehouse robbery." 

The Warden opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted by her phone, which was one of only three in the prison, ringing loudly. She answered it immediately. "Hello, yes? This is Warden Phelps…" 

Margo pretended to interest herself in the rather meagre furnishings of the office until her friend and superior had finished on the telephone. 

"Very well then, good bye." The Warden finally said, concluding the call. "How very curious." She said to her friend after putting the phone down. 

"What was it?" The Deputy Warden asked, indulging her curiosity at last.

"That was Chip Maplewood… it seems our counterfeit Gadget Hackwrench is going to have a visit from the Rescue Rangers after all." 

76

"Aw, Chip, I don't get it. What d'ya wanna go and spend time visiting that fraud in the jailhouse for when you could be visiting Gadget?" Dale sounded personally put out by it, despite the fact that it meant that he would be able to spend time alone with Gadget. 

"Those people who tried to kidnap Gadget… two of them are still out there. If they're linked to the people who were impersonating us-"

"What people who were impersonating us?" Dale scratched his head. 

Chip stopped sorting his letters of introduction to the Prison Warden and looked up at his friend. "Oh, that's right. We never told you. Some group of frauds was running around the country impersonating us and using our reputation to cheat everyone they met."

"And nobody told me?"

"Of course not." Chip sounded matter of fact about it. He had already gone back to the letters of introduction. "That's why I really left. I was investigating the places they robbed."

"I thought you went to visit an old friend who lived in the country?" 

Chip ignored the implied question. "According to the newspapers (for what little those scandalmongers are worth) the mouse that was impersonating Gadget was alone and she was arrested for causing a disturbance. That's a big difference from the modus operandi of the team that were using our reputations to cheat people. It could be this prisoner is just some trouble maker who tried giving a false name to the Street Watch and got way more than she bargained for. Or she could be a wondering nut who's nothing to do with the con artists. Either way, there haven't been any more confidence tricks reported since the museum robbery." 

"That means that she must be the one who was pretending to be Gadget, right?"

"Wrong. She was arrested the same day that Gadget was injured. The news spread quickly and the con artists might just be laying low because they know that they can't con anyone while Gadget is in the hospital." 

Dale scratched his head. "What about the two museum robbers who got away at the hospital. I thought going after them was top priority?"

"If the mouse girl in prison is guilty of everything they say she is, her friends may have hijacked Gadget and the Ranger plane to rob the museum without her. If that's the case, then she may know who the two on the hospital roof were and be able to tell us where they've gone."

"We already got one of them. Why don't we just ask him?" 

"That thug who dressed up as an orderly? Take it from me; he's a real tough guy. We handed him over to the Street Watch so they could try and sweat something out of him but I don't think they'll have much luck. I'd have a go myself, with Monty's help, but the reporters probably would have been accusing us of brutality before we got anything out of him." It might, Chip silently admitted to himself, have been a justified accusation, given what the would-be kidnapper had tried to do. 

"You're going this morning? To visit the prison?" 

"No, I've got some other people to see first. I couldn't get around to her until late this afternoon. But I won't be coming back to the tree before then so I'm putting the stuff I'll need together now. Think of it this way, you get to spend some time with Gadget while I'm busy." As soon as he'd said it, Chip could have kicked himself for pointing this out to Dale but the last thing Chip wanted was to have Dale trailing after him while he was chasing down the few meagre leads they did have. With any luck, Gadget would be tired from the kidnap attempt and toss Dale out on his ear. 

Chip smiled. 

Dale blinked and smiled back at him.

77

Prison Officer Margo Haggs was, as Gadget had deduced on their first meeting, an escapee from a Human medical lab. Born into captivity, Haggs had never seen her father and, given the rumours about what went on in Human science labs, she wouldn't have been surprised to learn that her mother had never met him either. She had learned little about the wonderful world beyond the walls of the institution by the time she was weaned from her mother and not long after that they were separated and Margo Haggs never saw her again. 

The greatest fear of every intelligent animal in a human science lab is that their intelligence might be noticed by a human, who would then want to run tests and experiments to see just how intelligent that particular animal was and why. Not all small animals are intelligent – if they were, it would have been impossible to keep the secret of animal society from humans at all. Most species on the planet could boast only a single breed or sub-species that had been gifted, or cursed, with sapient thought. 

Only a precious few of the animals in the lab with Haggs were bright enough to talk and only rarely did the opportunity arise for them to speak to one and other. Separated from her mother at an early age, Haggs herself only knew a few words of English before she escaped, including her own name. It was enough for one of the other prisoners to tell her that if they could get out of this place, there was somewhere better waiting for them on the outside. 

Haggs grew up behind bars and, in a way, grew around them. She escaped before the humans noticed her intelligence or her unusual longevity compared to the other lab rats. Longevity was that other very human quality that seemed to go hand in hand with speech. Still, young as she was when she escaped, the bars and cages left an impression on Margo Haggs. Two things that her captivity had taught her were never far from her mind. The first was to blend in with everyone around her. Different was dangerous. The second was the division between those on one side of the bars and those on the other. Inside the cage you were a just a thing, a dangerous, wild thing to be contained and used. Outside, you were a giant. 

Right now, although bars and cages surrounded her, Margo Haggs was on the outside of the cage. She felt like a giant. 

One of creatures inside the cage had just had the audacity to try and bite her but she had been too big for it to hurt her. Now it was her turn and she was going to show the little creature that thought it was Gadget Hackwrench just what a giant could do. Officer Haggs was going to teach it a lesson it would never forget and when she was finished that would be the last time it forgot which side of the bars it belonged on. 

Only Haggs' instinctive caution kept her from going directly to Gadget's cell and handing out a beating heavy enough to put Gadget in a hospital bed. Whatever she thought of the Warden and her Deputy, they would throw Haggs out on her ear if they could connect her to what was going to happen to the little fraud. Not that Haggs had decided what would happen to the creature inside the cage, yet.

With those thoughts in mind, she slapped the transfer of duty forms down on the desk of the duty officer in the admin office of Shrankshaw Prison's special wing. The duty officer, a mole who had been reading a cheep magazine when Haggs entered, peered at the forms Haggs had presented. 

"You're working here from now on?" The mole sounded surprised.

"Just for a while. The Warden was concerned that the lack of variety in my experience could damage my chances with the promotions board. Is Doctor Schadenfreude still about?"

"Actually he's just left for the day. He won't be back until the day after tomorrow, in fact. Something about getting his hearing checked."

"Hmm? Oh, yes. That can take quite a long time for a bat." Haggs agreed. "Can I see the duty schedule? I'd like to see where I could slot myself in."

Without looking up from her magazine, the mole handed her a clipboard with some papers attached. Haggs gave it the once over and frowned in annoyance. "This isn't a duty schedule, this is a-" 

"What's that you say?" Drawled the mole, without much interest.

Haggs had broken off to look again at the papers she had been given. A slow, sly smile crossed her face. "I said this is just what I need, thank you very much." 

On the clipboard were the words "treatment regime – inmate 24601 – Doe, Jane". It had taken Officer Haggs a moment to connect the number with a certain red headed mouse. Beneath the heading and Gadget's prisoner number was Doctor Schadenfreude's prescription for a small amount of anti-hallucinogens. At the bottom of the paper was the good Doctor's signature. In between there was a large, inviting blank. Perhaps because he was in a hurry, Doctor Schadenfreude had failed to put the customary scribbled line through this empty space to prevent someone from adding his or her own suggestion for treatment. 

Haggs looked over at the mole. "Can I borrow a pen?" 

78

The morning of the day after Officer Haggs came to work on the special ward was the second Gadget had spent in her new cell. When the door to her cell opened, Gadget got what she thought was the shock of her life to see Haggs standing there with a breakfast tray. 

"Rise and shine!" Haggs practically shouted. "It's a beautiful morning. The sun is shining, the non-predatory birds are singing and the grass is sweet with dew. Of course, you'll have to take my word for all that, seeing as you're locked up down here and likely to stay that way for, oh, just about for ever the way you've been carrying on." 

Gadget blinked rapidly, her hands reaching for the breakfast tray mechanically as she fought to work out what was going on. 

"The Warden and I had such an interesting little chat with Doctor Schadenfreude yesterday. It seems that your delusions extend to thinking that anyone would take the word of a dirty little liar like you over the word of someone like me. We all thought you needed a closer watch kept on you by someone who understands how scum like you thinks. Or tries to. Oopsie." Haggs tilted the tray just as Gadget's hands reached it, so that all the food slid down her clothes.

Gadget cried out in dismay. 

"Careless girl!" Haggs said it as though it really had been Gadget's fault. "You'll have to clean that up yourself. You're far too dangerous for anyone to go into the cage with you. And, of course, we can hardly trust you with a mop." Haggs smiled nastily and pulled a small sponge out her pocket. "Start cleaning the floor." She ordered. 

Gadget stared at her silently for a moment. She could feel the milk from the breakfast cereal soaking through her hospital issue nightgown. Not long ago, Gadget thought to herself, if someone had come into her bedroom and woken her like that she would have lost her temper. She would have yelled at them, chased them out and maybe even bonked them over the head for good measure. 

Very slowly, Gadget took the sponge so she could clean up after Officer Haggs had left. 

"Come along, you don't want me to get one of the orderlies and have you restrained while someone else does it do you? Why if I told them how you dumped your food all over the floor just because you weren't happy to see me again they might even put you in a padded cell for the day. Or would you like that? All trussed up safe and sound in a straitjacket where no one would bother you. I could even look in on you and keep you from getting… bored."

Gadget shook her head submissively. She didn't know how Haggs planned to keep her from getting bored but she was hoping that she had turned in her rubber panties for the last time.  

"Get cleaning then." Haggs ordered.

Gadget hesitated but saw no way around it. She would have to wipe her breakfast off the floor and that meant she would have to kneel in front of Haggs. She did so, keeping her eyes down so that she would not have to look the bully in the face. 

As Gadget cleaned the floor she realised that where there should have been anger in her heart, there was only a deep, empty stillness. She wondered what that meant and whether it was good or bad. This was, she realised, her thirteenth day in prison. Unlucky for some. She no longer expected to persuade anyone that she was Gadget Hackwrench. She would only be rescued when one of her friends discovered the trick that was being played on them and shook the truth out of the impostor.

Haggs put her foot as close to the bars as possible. "Some of your breakfast got onto my foot. Wipe it off." 

Gadget made the mistake of looking up at the Prison Officer to see if she meant it. Haggs did. Now Gadget had to look down and obey the humiliating order and Haggs would know that she was humiliated. Haggs knowing was worse than having just obediently kept her head down and done as she was told. 

Gadget wiped the milk and cereal from Haggs' foot as quickly as possible. 

"That's a good girl. Now just you behave yourself and maybe you'll get to enjoy your lunch." Haggs left without another word. 

Gadget sat on the end of her bed and thought about the empty space inside of her. It was partly the space that should have been occupied by the food she had just wiped off the floor and Haggs' foot, but there was something else missing as well. 

It was confidence. 

Her confidence that she was right, her confidence that she was Gadget Hackwrench, that she was sane, that she did not belong in chains. 

When she really thought about it, she realised that it wasn't something that Haggs had taken from her either – that was just her pride, a far less important trinket. Her confidence was something that had been stolen by Ratigan, or perhaps her own imagination, in that one brief instant when she had seen him standing behind Doctor Schadenfreude. 

Sitting back on her bed, she asked herself the question and took it seriously for the first time. "What if I am just some nutcase who just thinks she's Gadget Hackwrench?" 

If she closed her eyes she could see Monty standing in the kitchen doorway, one bushy eyebrow raised. Hear the sound Dale's head made when Chip hit it. The buzzing of Zipper's wings seemed so real. Wait a moment. That was real. 

Gadget's eyes snapped open, half expecting to see the housefly hero in front of her. He wasn't. She looked about the cell for the source of the noise and realised that it was coming from the hall outside. The lights dimmed slightly. 

Gadget scowled. The last thing she needed was for an electrical fault to offer her the perfect chance to escape when she was the one person in the prison who couldn't take advantage of it. Discomfort and inconvenience she could live with. Psychological torture she could not. Or rather, Gadget Hackwrench could not. The seductive thought insinuated itself into the centre of her mind: If she was not Gadget Hackwrench then she wasn't a Rescue Ranger, she hadn't dedicated her life to upholding the law and there was nothing to stop her trying to escape. Gadget looked at the thought like a director watching an auditioning actor quail under a spotlight for the first time. Unimpressive as it was at first glance, it had potential. The potential to get her out of here, anyway... 

Of course, if she wasn't Gadget Hackwrench she wouldn't have any of the skills that she thought she did and escape would probably be impossible. After what Doctor Schadenfreude had said about her imagination forging her memories to protect her illusions, Gadget found herself wondering if her highly principled decision not to escape was just a flimsy rationalisation to excuse an actual inability to escape that she couldn't admit to herself. 

That one kept Gadget puzzling for a long time. The only way to prove it was to try and escape and fail, which would prove that she was mad, incapable of escaping and that she rightly belonged in prison. Where she would stay for, counting the five-year sentence that would get tacked on for attempted escape, twenty years.   

Escape looked even less appealing than it had when she was only worried about getting handcuffs slapped on her by one of her best friends and being led back to prison again. And if she wasn't Gadget Hackwrench, what would she do on the outside? It wasn't a question of marching up to Ranger HQ and demanding her life back because it wasn't hers in the first place! 

She could go looking to find out who she really was but if she really were crazy it would only be a matter of time before she convinced herself she was Gadget Hackwrench again. Besides, where would she start? You needed trained professionals for those sort of investigations – a real Rescue Ranger would be up to the challenge but, by definition, if the investigation was necessary then she wouldn't be up to it. 

If she wasn't Gadget who was she? She only knew of one mouse that was a dead ringer for her and that was Lawhiney, who was under guard in Hawaii as far as she knew. She spent a couple of minutes racking her brain to see if she could speak Hawaiian. She couldn't. 

That didn't rule out any number of people who looked like her that she, or rather Gadget, hadn't met yet. 

"I can't believe I'm taking this seriously!" Gadget yelled out loud, rolling her eyes. There was a faint noise from the peephole in the doorway. Gadget winced. She had just been caught talking to herself again. 

79

"Are you sure about this?" the mouse orderly worried unhappily.

"You read the Doctor's prescription. Have you been to medical school?" the squirrel orderly with her replied. 

"Not unless you count that time someone was going to dissect me." 

"Will you give me hand shifting these boxes out of here? This place hasn't been used in years."

"I thought they sent the patients to the big funny farm under City Hall to do this kind of stuff." 

"Well, m'be they don't wanna to take the risk with this one. She's pretty whacked out ya' know."

The squirrel picked up a large cardboard box and handed it to the mouse, even though it was too big for her friend to see over. "Dump it all on the trolley in the hall. We'll be moving it down to storage when we get a moment." The squirrel shook a smaller box that made glassware sounds. She put it on top the larger cardboard box her friend was already holding. 

Turning her back, the squirrel continued to move the junk, disused equipment and cleaning supplies. Behind her came a loud crash from the hallway. "Hm." She grunted, but pretended not to hear in case she had to help clean up the mess. When she moved the next box, the squirrel made a discovery that made her forget the muffled cursing and complaining in the corridor outside. 

"I found it! Come look!" 

There was a pause and the sound of breaking glassware, but the mouse did come in to look. She stared at the squirrel's discovery with a mixture of fascination and horror. It was a large plastic chair made out of lego blocks that had been glued together. The raised circles on top of the blocks that formed the seat looked extremely uncomfortable but the crown of wires and electrodes mounted where the head of the person sitting in the chair would be tended to draw the imagination to what would be happening to the other end.

The mouse turned large eyes on her older, more confident friend. "We have to put someone into that?"

"Yeah, I guess so. Hope it still works after all these years." 

They both stared at the chair.

"Do you think she'll fight very hard?"

"Wouldn't you?" The squirrel asked.

The fur on the mouse's back rose in alarm at the thought. "Don't say that!"

"We're going to have to spend all morning cleaning this place if we're going to get this done by lunchtime. C'mon, let's get back to work." 

80

Gadget looked at the paper cone cup of pills. "There are rather more of them than usual." She said, wrinkling her nose. 

"They're not the same kind of pills you've had before." The orderly said flatly. "Now, I don't have all day. Just think of it as taking your vitamins."

"You mean this will give me a shiny coat?"

"Yeah, sure, honey. Just take the pills." The orderly sighed heavily. She had another twelve patients to go… Sheesh, what a way to earn a living!

Gadget took the pills and knocked them back with a mouth full of water from the bottle that hung on the bars of her cage, identical to the ones that hung on the cages humans kept their prisoners in. 

"Now say 'ah' and show me your tongue." The orderly told her.

"My tongue?"

"I have to make sure that you've swallowed them." 

Wearily, Gadget complied, holding her mouth wide open so that the orderly could shine a torch into it. 

"Waggle your tongue." The orderly instructed her.

Gadget did so.

"Okay, that'll do." The orderly killed the torch and turned away. Gadget took advantage of the moment to stick her tongue out at the orderly's retreating back like a naughty child. She barely got away with it; the orderly turned back at the door with a suspicious look on her face, but saw only a widely smiling prisoner. 

"Humph." The orderly grunted as she locked the door. "With those pills inside you, you'll soon forget what you're grinning at."

Inside her cell, Gadget was already feeling the effects. She was trying to pick up her calculations on how many ceiling tiles it would take to cover the entire park the Rangers lived in, but found it impossible to retrieve the equations from her memory. She frowned. She knew exactly where she had put the problem – she had an imaginary filing cabinet and an imaginary blackboard in a nice, quiet part of her mind for exactly this very purpose. When she opened the filing cabinet, however, the paper was smudged and the numbers illegible. 

Mentally, she shrugged her shoulders and began the sums a new, but the numbers seemed to move and change places when she took attention off them. Gadget frowned. Odd. She tried to remember if something like this had ever happened before. There was that time she had banged her head, she mused, and back in primary school one time when she got sick. Was that it? Was she getting sick? 

Feeling a little hazy she lay down on the bed, hoping that it would pass quickly. She really didn't want to fall ill here. Sheesh, what else could possibly happen to her? Instead of passing, the feelings quickly got worse. Soon her head was spinning and she had forgotten what she was worried about. It felt like she was floating and was likely to float right out of her cell, all the way back to the Ranger HQ. She would drift past the front door and Chip would open it and ask where she had been. 

"Oh, you wouldn't believe me if I told you." She would answer before asking him to fish her out of the pink, candyfloss clouds that were coming to take her away, ha-ha, hee-hee, were coming to take her away… Lost in a haze of prescription medication, Gadget lay sprawled on her bed with her eyes unfocused. It would be quite some time before she came down again. 

81

It was late afternoon when they came for Gadget. 

The cell door opened. Gadget did not lift her head at the sound. She didn't react to the sound of keys turning in the lock, either, or to the rustle of more than one person entering her cell. A hand took her arm and re-arranged it. 

"Did you bring breakfast?" she mumbled. 

"It's closer to tea time." A voice said. 

"Hmmm?" Gadget puzzled. 

There was the quiet but unmistakeable click of someone fastening heavy-duty restraints around the body parts of another person. Heavy duty, in the case of a mouse, meant something bite resistant that a human would need more than a little finger to break. 

"Up we come." 

"Huh? Whuddya mean, we?" Gadget puzzled. She was fairly sure she was the only one in the bed. Firm hands pulled her into a sitting position. Was it time for school?

The hands lifted her up and then carelessly dumped her into a seat, dispelling any thought that this might be her father. What was she thinking? Her father had been dead for years… Gadget kick-started her brain and tried to work out what was going on. She had just remembered joining the Rescue Rangers when she felt someone putting straps around her, securing her in the chair. 

Gadget forced her eyes open. Bars. She could see bars. Oh, yes. That was right… she had been locked up for impersonating Gadget Hackwrench. The logical part of her mind threw a little tantrum at that - how could she be locked up for pretending to be herself? 

The chair she was strapped to began moving. By the time she realised it was a wheelchair her memory had filled in the blanks about where she was. She didn't like the picture it left her facing. 

"Where are you taking me?" she asked the orderlies. 

"For your treatment. Nothing to worry about." Came the brisk answer. 

Gadget shook her head. She wasn't thinking clearly but the studied, artificial tone was enough to alarm anyone. A little clearer-minded, Gadget peered blearily at the passing scenery. The memory of being drugged – as much memory as she had of that event – came back to her and suddenly she could place the strange, cotton-wool-headed feeling that was smothering her. She had to fight it. She tried digging her claws into the palms of her hands, a trick to fight mind control that she had seen once in one of Dale's spy movies. 

Pain. Ah yes, that happened when you drove your fingernails into your own skin. The adrenalin did seem to work though. She kept her eyes closed to stop the motion sickness she could feel building and wished she could close her ears and not hear the squeak of the wheelchair's axle. She shuddered and was suddenly glad she hadn't eaten all day. 

By the time they came to the heavy door with the dusty glass window, Gadget still wasn't thinking clearly but she was fairly sure she made as much sense as Dale. Briefly, she wondered if this was what the world was like for Dale all the time. She stepped on the thought before she could expand on it. She couldn't afford to go off on a tangent now. She didn't have the brainpower to make up the time she spent on things that weren't relevant. 

The sign on the door was too dirty to read. All she could make out was: "E##c##o-Co#v#l##ve The##r# ##om". 

It wouldn't have been a problem for the real Gadget Hackwrench she mused unhappily – only thirteen letters out of twenty-eight missing. Of course, she thought, the medication they fed me might have affected my thinking – Golly! If they keep me like this, I might never be sure who I really am! 

The door was opened. Gadget recognised the equipment inside instantly. 

This was an electro-shock therapy room. 

She was going to be electrocuted. 

Adrenaline surged through her body and her muscles tensed against her will, giving away the fact that she was awake. She had meant to keep that a closely guarded secret. 

This was not good. If she sat in that chair and electricity ran through her head she would never truly be herself again… whoever that was. 

This didn't make sense. Doctor Schadenfreude was a good person. She sensed that. She had sensed it before she was given the medication. Why would he do this do her? It couldn't be a well-intentioned mistake. Electro-shock therapy was only prescribed for patients experiencing depression. She hadn't said anything in their sessions that suggested depression and nothing in the symptoms he could know about suggested that she might suffer from it. 

She left out the symptoms he couldn't know about. 

That left incompetence; she suddenly wished that she had more experience of dealing with psychiatrists. She had considered going to one after she found out about Monty's dabbling in grief therapy, but had never been able to find the time. 

As the wheelchair squeaked through the door, she realised that there was no question of not trying to escape now. Upholding the law was one thing. Allowing someone to pass electricity through her body was another. They would have to untie the restraints to put her into the electro-shock chair. That would be the moment she had to make her break. 

Large, strong hands gripped her by the upper arms from behind. A mouse orderly she didn't recognise released the straps that attached her to the chair. Gadget braced herself to make her move. Sneaking a glimpse of the hands that were holding her, she noted the claws and fur colouring and placed the smell of squirrel as that of one of the orderlies who escorted her to the little lunatic's room when she had been kept in the padded cell. 

This was bad. The orderly, Gadget recalled, was taller than her and had a tendency to be short-tempered. On the other hand, she was also easily distracted. The mouse in front of her was unknown to Gadget, but was smaller than her and already looked frightened. I haven't even done anything yet, Gadget thought, this just might work out. 

The mouse bent forward and took Gadget's hands to pull her out of the wheelchair. 

Gadget brought her knees up to touch her chest and kicked with both feet. The mouse orderly flew backwards and slammed into the electro-shock chair with a nasty crack. 

The squirrel's claws dug sharply into Gadget's arms. 

Gadget tried to twist herself free. She slumped as low in the wheelchair as she could but the squirrel bent over the chair to follow her. Scowling, Gadget put one foot on firm ground and used the other to push the chair backwards as far as she could, driving it into the orderly. The orderly went "oof" satisfyingly. The handle on the back of the wheelchair had hit somewhere sensitive.  

Gadget allowed herself a smile that lasted a heartbeat. Then she realised the squirrel hadn't let go. 

Gadget put her other foot on the floor and pulled forward. Her body weight pulled the squirrel forward, dragging the unfortunate orderly across the wheelchair. Gadget was able to reach back far enough to get a grip on the squirrel's arm, in spite of the restraints that were binding her wrists together. 

The orderly was snaking an arm around Gadget's neck, preparing to choke her with the crook of her elbow. 

Gadget struggled to get her feet under her. When she succeeded, Gadget lifted with her legs and took a bow, the classic judo throw that a friend of her father's had taught her a very long time ago. The squirrel tumbled messily onto the floor and lay there, more surprised than hurt. 

Gadget stood but found her head spinning with dizziness almost instantly. Trying to find her balance, she realised for the first time that her ankles were also in restraints. She could place her feet no more than inch apart. Glancing over her shoulder to find the position of the wheelchair, she was relieved to find it was in range of a short hop backwards. She landed in it with a whump and kicked the floor with both feet, sending the chair careening out through the door. 

She knew it wasn't freedom. The squirrel was getting up. The mouse was still lying on her back, not moving. Gadget allowed herself a moment of concern for the orderly. 

The squirrel dived for the door just in time for Gadget to kick it shut in her face. The slab of glass that acted as a window was almost as thick as the door itself. At mouse-size, anything thinner could have been broken by a powerful sneeze. 

The glass didn't break when the squirrel's face hit it.

It broke when the force of the impact knocked the glass out of its frame, causing it to drop onto the floor. 

The squirrel's eyes crossed before she dropped onto the floor. 

Gadget took several deep breaths. She didn't have long before they got up and came after her. Part of her wasn't sure that they would be able to get up at all. She tried to move the wheelchair and found it was jammed flat against the wall. Unable to release her hands from the restraints, she could not reach the wheels of the wheelchair to gain control of it. 

Gadget was only able to pull herself out of the wheelchair with difficulty. That surprised her on some level. She began to realise that two weeks without exercise, plus the medication, had taken a real toll on her body. Her victory over the guards had been a minor miracle – even with the element of surprise working for her. 

No matter how tired she felt she had no time to lose. Gadget began hopping down the corridor as though she was in a sack race. She probably had less than a minute before they came after her. She had to find either a place to hide or some way to remove her restraints in that time.  

She found it impossible to cover more than an inch in a single bound and was terrified that she would fall and knock her self out. Hop, hop, hop, she inched her way down the corridor. 

As she neared the corner at the end of the corridor she turned her head to see if anyone was chasing her yet. The door to the electro-shock therapy was still closed. She allowed herself another brief smile and then continued to hop round the corner where she would be out of sight – Pow! 

Gadget found herself sitting on the floor, looking up at the smiling face of Officer Haggs. The bullying officer had just hit Gadget in the face for the second time.

"My, my, who's been a naughty girl then? Lucky I just happened to be passing." Reaching down, Haggs gripped Gadget's hair and began dragging her back towards the electroshock room. 

Gadget squealed as the roots of her hair took close to the full weight of her body. To reduce the pull on her scalp she reached up and gripped her own hair below Haggs' hand. The only way she could do it was to raise her knees to her chest, because of the restraints that were still binding her. That meant taking her feet off the floor and without her legs to push her along the floor the journey back to the electroshock room seemed far longer than the it had a few seconds before. 

They reached the door just as the squirrel orderly opened it, shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose. When she saw Gadget, she scowled. A look and an unspoken question passed between the orderly and Officer Haggs. Then, without hesitation, the squirrel orderly took Gadget by the scruff of the neck and punched her in the jaw hard enough for Gadget's head to crack against the linoleum floor. 

Everything went black. 

82

The first thing Gadget was aware of was a faint buzzing sound. Not Zipper, she thought and then spent a moment trying to remember why that would be the first thing a buzzing sound would make her think. When she remembered, she opened her eyes and found herself strapped down in the lego-block chair, ready for electroshock therapy. 

Her eyes went wide with fear and terror. The room was darkened except for a light directly over her head. In the shadows, she could see two figures hunched over a control panel. One of them she recognized as the squirrel orderly. The other she could only identify as a mole. 

"Help." She said, dozily. 

The squirrel looked at her. "I get to push the button." She said. "My friend's had to go to hospital because of you and that means I get to push the button." 

Gadget couldn't tell whether the squirrel was happy at getting to push the button or just angry that her friend was injured. Perhaps it was both. 

"I'm not what you think I am. I'm the real Gadget Hackwrench, I swear I am!"

"The real Gadget Hackwrench wouldn't know the words for what I think you are!" the squirrel replied. 

"I'm not some kind of saint! I've heard enough of what crooks say when they get busted to know every kind of word there is! When one of my inventions falls apart, I may not use cuss words out loud in front of everyone but I certainly think them!" Gadget's eyes pleaded now. Begged and implored. 

"Dang it, where are the circuit breakers for this thing?" the mole's voice was frustrated. 

"How should I know? I've never done this before." The squirrel's revelation didn't reassure Gadget one bit. 

Gadget, of course, did know but even with concussion and a skin full of prescription drugs she knew better than to speak up in these circumstances. "Listen, just think a moment, what if you do this and then you find out I'm telling the truth, that I am the real Gadget Hackwrench?" 

The mole and the squirrel looked at each other for a moment. Then they both shrugged. "Well, gee, lady, we're just doing our jobs. It's not our fault if the Doc screwed up." The mole said. 

"Yeah, that's right." The squirrel agreed. "No one can blame us if we get handed the wrong patient." 

"Except Gadget Hackwrench has never been a patient here, so there's no way you can be her." The mole added triumphantly.

"That's right!"

Gadget listened in horror. They probably meant it, she realised, and worse still, it was probably true. "Oh… golly! Isn't there anything I can say that would convince you not to do this?"

The squirrel fingered her bruises, pointedly. "No." 

"Nothing?" 

"Nope. Nothing! Hey, are those the circuit breakers?" 

"No, those are just rectifiers. The control how many volts she gets." 

"What does she get with them in that position?"

"About fifty volts."

The squirrel did something to the control panel. "How about now?"

"About, let's see… about 3,000 volts." 

Gadget squeaked in alarm.

83

Warden Phelps was surprised when she passed a familiar figure in the hallway. "Doctor Schadenfreude, I thought you were taking the day off?" 

"Oh yah. I was. But the physician has assured me that my hearing is fine, so I have returned to tie up a few loose ends in what remains of the day."

"I was just about to leave early!" The warden laughed. 

"How did your little, ahem, discussion go with that Officer who was named by my patient?" 

The warden frowned. It wasn't really a fit discussion for a hallway but there was no one about. "Not quite the way I expected. I wanted to move her away from the inmate concerned, but obviously without any evidence I had to do it in a way that couldn't be seen to lend weight to the accusation."

"Very wise."

"Unfortunately, Officer Haggs is quite wise too, or cunning at least. I offered her a chance to expand her range of experience, for the sake of improving her promotion prospects. She chose to work in your the Special Wing." 

"With my patients? But if you are inclined to take the accusation seriously, surely you realise that this Haggs will be seeking reprisal against-"

"Against the young lady who is not Gadget Hackwrench, yes, I know." Warden Phelps placated him.   

"You know? But then-"

"I intend to make sure a careful watch is kept on that particular patient. And if anything does happen to her, we'll have enough proof to see Officer Haggs drummed out of the service, finally." 

"I suppose I cannot argue. But I must register my gravest concerns for the well-being of my patient, whose mind is already under severe stress." 

"I quite understand. And I'm afraid I'm going to have to place a bit more stress on her. Chip Maplewood, the head detective of the Rescue Rangers, called my office after that little drama yesterday." 

"Seriously? What did he have to say?" For a split second, Doctor Schadenfreude was gripped by the frightening thought that his patient had turned out to be the real Gadget Hackwrench and that everyone was about to look very silly in a very public way. 

"He wants to interview our Jane Doe. He hopes she may be able to shed light on who the rest of the criminals, who hijacked the Ranger plane and then attacked Miss Hackwrench in the hospital, are." 

"Oh, I see. This could be very harmful to my patient, you are realising. To have her belief in her delusion of being Gadget Hackwrench shattered instead of eroded gradually could destroy her mind completely."  

"Surely you can explain this to Mr Maplewood; have him humour her a little?" 

"No, it would be almost as bad to feed her delusion – its grip on her is very powerful and if not checked, her real personality might well be submerged for all time by the personality construct she has created of Gadget Hackwrench." 

Warden Phelps hummed as she tried to penetrate the dense psychobabble. As far as she could make out, it would be a bad thing to give the patient any more reason to think that she was Gadget Hackwrench than she already had. If the patient was given too much reason to think she was Gadget Hackwrench, she might stay that way for the rest of her life. "So perhaps he could watch from a distance? Feed questions to her through an intermediately?"

"Perhaps," the psychiatrist allowed, "but I've been finding it very difficult to draw her out of her psychosis. I have to say that if anyone can get our problem child to give the answers we all would wish to hear, it is him." 

I wish he'd make up his mind, Warden Phelps thought. One moment it's a bad idea and the next, it's the only way to get anywhere at all. 

"So," Doctor Schadenfreude enquired, "when can we expect Mr Maplewood to call on our unusual inmate?" 

"Tomorrow, at nine."

"Ach, just yesterday I recommended a treatment programme of anti-hallucinogens and mild sedatives. Every patient responds differently to such medication; much tinkering is needed to get the correct dosage to control a given condition. If she starts that course of medication today, Mister Maplewood may find himself talking to the proverbial potato in a jacket."

"Oh dear! Well, we can't have that. Couldn't you leave it a couple of days before starting her treatment?"

"Her morning medication will already have been given to her, but if we can stop the evening dose being delivered, she should be normal by morning."

"We'd better see to it now then." Warden Phelps decided firmly. 

"But-" 

"No buts! Come along, Doctor. We'll have time to discuss how we're going to deal with Mister Maplewood's visit, once it's seen to." With that, the warden took the psychiatrist gently by the wing and steered him in the direction of the psychiatric ward of the prison hospital. 

84

"Listen, seriously, I'm sorry I bopped you on the nose with the door, I'm sorry about your friend's suspected skull fracture and I'm really, really sorry that I lied to Doctor Schadenfreude about who I was talking to, even if I was keeping a promise and protecting a confidence-" Gadget's jaw dropped. 

Ratigan stood in front of her, impossibly. The orderlies ignored him - one even looked directly at her to see why she had broken off without noticing the tall, swarthy rat in elegant Victorian evening dress. Solemnly, the professor raised a single finger and waggled it at Gadget as a reproof and a warning.

Gadget stared back at him and her heart almost broke at the memory of her friends. She had a clear, sudden vision of Chip, Dale, Monty and Zipper lined up in front of the archway from the living room into the kitchen. They looked at her with pleading eyes and bated breath. 

One of the capacitors began to hum. 

Gadget wrenched her attention back to the matter in hand, forced herself to take a deep breath and continued. "I'm even willing to accept the fact that I need psychiatric help and that some or all of what the Doctor thinks about me might be true." 

Both orderlies looked at her. 

"Please," Gadget appealed, nothing but sincerity in her voice, "don't do this to me." 

"Y'know," the mole said "that's a lot more lucid than what we used get from the people that were put in that chair in the old days." 

"Yeah…" Agreed the squirrel. "Ya know, I'm almost sorry for her." 

"Oh, thank you!" Gadget sighed. "I knew good people couldn't do something like this…"

"Oh, hey, we've got to do this. I mean; it's our job." The squirrel interrupted. 

"Oh yeah." The mole agreed. 

"But I accept your apology for bopping me on the nose…" 

Gadget stared disbelievingly at them, her jaw slack for the second time in under a minute. 

85

"That's odd." Warden Phelps said. "Where is everyone? There ought to be one person at the duty station at all times, if I remember the procedures right." 

"There should." Doctor Schadenfreude confirmed. 

"There's a note here… I can't read the writing." 

"Allow me. When most of one's acquaintances are either bats, or doctors, or only allowed crayons to write with, one develops the skill of reading almost anything. Ah, apparently one of the orderlies has been taken to the medical wing. The duty orderly is… assisting with the treatment of patient number 24601?" Doctor Schadenfreude's voice rose to a puzzled note. "Odd. I have never known a patient been that difficult to feed two pills to." 

"Inmate 24601? Her treatment regime is right here on this other clipboard. Someone really must have a word with the orderlies about not letting confidential information just lay around like this…"

"On that clipboard? Let me see…"

"What's this about electroshock therapy?" Warden Phelps asked. 

Then her mouth caught up with her brains. Her eyes locked with the equally horrified eyes of Doctor Schadenfreude. 

"Please may I see that?" requested the psychiatrist's mouth in the perfect English of the classroom. Only his eyes expressed the near panic he was experiencing. As the bat read the scrawled, barely legible additions to his own writing, his alarm mounted until he could barely keep his feet on the ground. "Mine Gott! I can scarcely believe what I'm reading! This is not right! I did not write these words. Someone has being tampered with my notes!" 

"Are you saying this isn't your handwriting? Because I have to say, it looks exactly like yours." 

"This writing at the top, prescribing anti-hallucinogens, is my handwriting, but everything else below that is a fabrication! Surely no one could believe that I would recommend electroshock therapy for a patient with delusions… the equipment we have here at the prison is most antiquated, dangerous even." The psychiatrist stared off into the middle distance for a few moments. "Ach, but we are worrying ourselves needlessly. Even if the orderlies were foolish enough to take this nonsense seriously, they would know better than to act on it. And if they did, I very much doubt the old electroshock device could be made to function." 

As if to throw the words back in his face, the overhead lights dimmed briefly.

Warden Phelps and Doctor Schadenfreude gaped at each other. 

"You don't think…?" the warden asked, haltingly. 

The Doctor nodded. "To the electroshock room! We must stop them!" he frantically cried. 

Both bat and mouse ran for the door. The Warden was faster but unfortunately Doctor Schadenfreude was the one who knew where the electroshock room actually was. The low ceilings made flight impossible. In the air, he was the stealth fighter of the animal world. On the ground, the best he could manage was a clumsy waddle. 

86

Gadget was desperately trying to work her tail into the buckle of the strap that was holding her right hand down. There was just a chance that, if she could get one hand free, she could detach the electrodes in time to save herself. The capacitor's whining had risen to a high-pitched whistle. The orderlies had been mildly alarmed when the lights had dimmed and for a moment Gadget had thought that she was about to be given a reprieve. If the lights had dimmed a second time then perhaps the orderlies would have pulled the plug but the overhead light remained distressingly steady. 

She turned her eyes to the mole and the squirrel. They were peering at dials and metres that Gadget knew must cover the control panel with morbid fascination, waiting until all the needles pointed to the right numbers and it was time to give Gadget her shock; her FIRST shock, that was. She had overheard one of the orderlies calling it that, which raised the question of how many other shocks there might be. 

The tip of Gadget's tail was now under the buckle strap. She tried to flick her tail to undo the strap. It didn't work. The strap was heavy rubber – leather being offensive to a great many animals – and one side of the strap was sticking to the other side. Worse still, her tail was now trapped between two layers of rubber strap. 

Gadget was running out of ideas – something unheard of for her. At the back of her mind a petulant little girl voice complained about the sedatives ruining her concentration. No excuses, the adult Gadget snapped back, ideas aren't the only thing I'm running out of; I'm also running out time. 

"Almost there." The Mole said. 

Gadget blinked rapidly. The doorknob on the hallway door had started to turn. Her heart leapt. This had to be Doctor Schadenfreude coming to rescue her. It was a mistake; her records had been mixed up with someone else's. When the door opened, Doctor Schadenfreude would be there, no doubt about it, even though the Doctor had told her that he was going to get his hearing checked and that it would take most of the day. 

Well, if it wasn't Doctor Schadenfreude, it would be Warden Phelps. She would have run from her office to stop this, shocked by the phone call or newspaper that had revealed the truth to her at the last second.  

The door opened slowly… And Officer Haggs crept quietly into the room. Finally out of ideas, Gadget began to say her prayers. Her lips moved silently as she gave herself up to fate.  

"I'm sorry to intrude at such a sensitive moment, but I thought you'd like to know that Orderly Hapsley should be fine. A light concussion according to the duty nurse, nothing more." Haggs offered by way of explanation for her presence. 

"Oh, thanks." The mole said.

"That sure is a weight off my mind." The squirrel remarked. 

"You're welcome." Haggs replied. She took the opportunity to peer at Gadget and smile. A frown crossed Haggs' face. "Should she have some kind of rubber gag to stop her biting her tongue?" 

"Oh? Oh, yeah!" the mole said. "Say, we can't give her shock-therapy without that. She might bite her tongue clean off, or something." 

"Not much of a loss… some might say." Haggs editorialised.

"I don't think we have any. This equipment hasn't been used in years…" The squirrel busied herself looking for the rubber gag. 

"Aren't they disposable these days? We might not have any." The mole worried. 

"I'm sure we could can find something." Haggs said. "If we can't we'll just have to improvise." She was looking distinctly she had mentioned it in the first place. 

"Wait a second, I think I've found it." The squirrel had opened a rusty draw in a cabinet that stood in the corner of the room. She pulled out something that looked like a huge baby's teething ring. 

The squirrel did Gadget the favour of wiping the dust off before trying to put it into her mouth. 

"Nuh-uh!" Gadget objected as firmly as she could without opening her mouth. 

"Uh-huh!" the squirrel absentmindedly replied, trying to squeeze the huge bulb past Gadget's pursed lips. 

Gadget twisted her head about as unpredictably as she could. The squirrel countered by plonking a hand down on Gadget's head and holding it in position. Gadget clenched her jaw. 

"Allow me." Haggs offered and proceeded to pinch Gadget's ears, sharply. 

"YOUCH!" Gadget cried and the gag was slipped past her teeth. Before she could force it out again, it was secured behind her head. 

"Finally! We're ready." The squirrel said happily. 

"You don't mind if I stay and watch, I hope? I've never seen one of these treatments before and the Warden's eager I should widen my experience..." 

"Unless you guys want your fur to stand on end, better come over here where old sparky's static can't get at you." The mole said in a weary voice. 

Gadget closed her eyes and breathed hard. She could feel every muscle in her body twitching in anticipation. A ragbag of thoughts flew through her mind in the last seconds before the mole pushed the button. 

A tear-stained Bubbles McGee looked over her shoulder at Gadget, during the journey to prison. 

She hung from the ceiling of the Ranger Headquarters. She was about to fall and hurt herself.

An angry mob confronted her as she was led into the courtroom. 

Gadget waved goodbye to her old friend Jennifer Talbert-Hall. 

The last time she was with Monty.

Gadget caught a single broken breath and waited for the end. The mole pushed the button. 

87

"Unless you guys want your fur to stand on end, better come over here where old sparky's static can't get at you." The mole said in a weary voice…

…Gadget caught a single broken breath and waited for the end. The mole pushed the button.

Nothing happened. 

88

"What the heck?" the squirrel demanded. "It doesn't work! What's wrong with this thing?"

The mole took a pair of thick spectacles from her pocket and put them on. "Oh, I see. There are two buttons and you've got to push both of them at the same time. Safety feature, I guess, in case someone accidentally pushes the button while you're strapping the patient down." 

Gadget slumped in the chair. Just as well I have a gag in my mouth, she thought to herself, remembering her promise to her father to always watch her language! She couldn't take much more of this.

"Let's get this show on the road." The squirrel said, thumbing one of the buttons repeatedly. 

The mole reached out a paw for the button, then changed her mind and pulled it back to put her glasses away first. 

"Aw, c'mon!" Officer Haggs complained. "Just push it, will ya?"

"Do I tell you how to turn keys?" The mole demanded frostily.  

"Why you-" Haggs barely restrained herself. "Of course not. Please, carry on." 

"Right then, on three." 

"Okay." The squirrel agreed.

"One, two, three-" 

The door burst open. Warden Phelps and Doctor Schadenfreude fell into the room, almost landing at Gadget's feet. 

"STOP!" Cried Doctor Schadenfreude. 

"IT'S A MISTAKE!" Warden Phelps shouted.

"A mistake?" the squirrel yelped.

Gadget's heart leapt for joy. Even in her wildest dreams, she hadn't hoped that the Warden AND Doctor Schadenfreude would come to her rescue! 

Haggs drew back like a snake about to strike and then subsided; the only reprisal she allowed herself, for the moment, was a sustained glare at Gadget. "Surely you can't mean that this creature is the real Gadget Hackwrench!" she hissed. 

You tell 'em, Gadget thought! Trying to smile with the gag in place made her face ache, but she did it anyway. She could almost smell Monty's Walnut Surprise. Yes Sir, she was coming home! With her heart singing, she waited with baited breath to hear the words that would set her free at last.

"No, of course not." The warden said. 

Gadget's hopes fell apart like a badly made invention. She could almost hear the accompanying sound of grinding gears. She wasn't going to be free and… it wasn't over.

"Someone has tampered with my instructions for this patient's treatment." Schadenfreude bemoaned.

The room was filled with questions and explanations and disbelief. 

"It looked like your writing." The mole said in a defensive voice.

In the last ten minutes Gadget had been as frightened as she ever had been. 

"You've been saying for weeks how we should clear out this room and put it to good use!" The squirrel accused.

She was no stranger to fear. The time when she had been climbing a rope and looked down to see Fat Cat's open mouth – all teeth – beneath her and rising fast as he jumped to greet his visitor, had a kind of primal terror all of it's own, Gadget thought. 

"Yah, yah. I mean to turn it into an administration office. The reception area is quite swamped with paper work, some of it most sensitive. If no one is there to keep watch anything might happen with it." 

Gadget recalled the moment when Rat Capone had strapped her to the conveyer belt that led to his cheese-slicing machine and she had looked over to see Monty – her only hope of rescue – in the grip of a "cheese-attack". She had experienced a mental anguish as deep as a small child in the grip of a nightmare.

"Something like this you mean, Doctor?" Warden Phelps said pointedly. "Come here and help me un-strap her, please." 

Gadget had faced a lot of dangers. She had thought about being killed attempting a rescue. It had taken much longer for the thought of being maimed, crippled, in a rescue to occur to her. She had gotten past it – eventually. But it had never occurred to her that she might be mentally damaged. Quadriplegic with a mind-bashingly high IQ, perhaps, but physically fine and brain damaged? 

Doctor Schadenfreude joined Warden Phelps who was struggling with the unfamiliar straps that bound Gadget's wrists to the lego brick chair. 

"I can't believe we went through all this for nothing." The squirrel complained. "And I so wanted to push that button and be part of something important for once."

Perhaps in her case, Gadget's ego insisted, brain damage would mean she was left with a normal IQ? But no, Gadget thought, not even ending up with a normal IQ had occurred to her. 

"Huh, if this was important someone would have looked after this equipment a bit better. Look at that, asides from the dust over everything, my button's stuck." The mole orderly retorted.  

She was one of those people who lived mostly in her own head, Gadget knew that, but she had never imagined that the very special freedom she enjoyed inside her own skull could be taken away from her. 

"Help me with the electrodes." Doctor Schadenfreude asked the warden. 

Now she had come within a heartbeat of losing that freedom it had suddenly taken on a new meaning for Gadget. 

"Sorry, would you mind showing me exactly which button it was that you had to press?" Officer Haggs asked the squirrel.

On the upside, Gadget thought, she didn't feel so trapped, or so imprisoned, as she had before. On the other hand, she had a new understanding of what she had to lose – and it was a lot. 

"Sure, it was this one here." The squirrel held out a finger and pointed to the button without quite touching it.

"Let's get her out that chair and back to her cell as quickly as possible." Warden Phelps said.

"Oops!" Officer Haggs leaned over and pretended to lose her balance. 

Thrusting a paw against the squirrel's shoulder, Haggs forced the orderly's finger onto the button. 

There was a bright light as though a photographer had taken a picture with a flash bulb.

Still strapped to the lego chair from the waist down, Gadget flinched and ducked as sparks flew over her head. Only occasional shock raced through her body like greyhounds chasing a hare round a racetrack. 

Over her years as an inventor Gadget had received a number of electrical shocks. If anyone were to suggest that she had built up a resistance to electricity passing through her body as a result, Gadget would have given them a lengthy lecture about the precise meaning of electrical resistance. That said, she was used to them.  

On either side of Gadget, Warden Phelps and Doctor Schadenfreude convulsed, twisted and crackled as electricity arced across the one-inch gap between them, lighting up their skeletons for all to see. It seemed to go on forever. 

It lasted one second.

89

Some minutes after the electroshock of Gadget Hackwrench (and Doctor Schadenfreude and Warden Phelps) the door to the electroshock therapy room opened, emitting a cloud of smoke. Doctor Schadenfreude walked out, trying to maintain the façade of professional dignity that he knew had to be used around subordinates and patients at all times. He thought he was making a good job of it. He got three steps before every muscle in his body dissolved into a twitching mess. He made it to the wall just in time to save himself from falling over. 

After Doctor Schadenfreude came Warden Phelps. She was moving very slowly and her eyes were glazed. She wasn't aware of it but the tip of her tail, on which she used wax to prevent stray hairs, had a thin wisp of smoke rising from it. 

The two orderlies quietly followed, their heads low, their ears down and their tails tucked between their legs. In the case of the mole, it wasn't noticeable, but the squirrel was having trouble walking.

"Remember," Warden Phelps squeaked at them, "I don't want to see either of you back here until this has been thoroughly investigated. You're both on unpaid leave until I say different." 

Woefully, the two disgraced orderlies slunk away.

Shaking, the warden leaned against a wall and closed her eyes. "Doctor, I don't know how this came about but a well run psychiatric wing does not allow room for the kind of farce we have seen today! I intend to make one call to inform Mister Maplewood that we will not be able to accept visitors today and then I will be speaking to the Medical Council and the Prison Authorities. There will be a THOROUGH INVESTIGATION into ALL of this and I WILL KNOW HOW THIS HAPPENED!"

Gadget left the electroshock room under her own power. Mercifully, the electrodes had been removed from her head before the machine was mysteriously switched on. Unfortunately, one of them had become entangled with her hair. As a result, her fur was spiky and her hair was like the Bride of Frankenstein's. 

Behind Gadget came Officer Haggs - unscathed, reputation undamaged and, thanks to a belated but still dramatic leap for the emergency cut-off switch, un-blamed. She kept a heavy hand on Gadget's shoulder and a smug, self-satisfied smile well hidden.

"Take the prisoner back to her cell, Haggs. And make sure she stays there." Warden Phelps ordered. 

"You can depend on me, Warden. I'll make sure she stays where she belongs." As she led Gadget away from the others, Haggs allowed her to see the smile and took delight in seeing her shrink back from it. Haggs let the smile widen. Everything was going her way. 


	14. The Silence of the Mice

**_Disclaimer_**

_In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone…  except a certain kind of lawyer._

Chapter Fourteen

The Silence of the Mice

90****

The morning after the incident with the electro-shock chair, Gadget awoke to see the last person she expected standing over her. 

Officer Haggs. 

Gadget tensed her muscles. Upholding the law be darned! Whatever oaths she had taken in her life, they didn't involve having electricity passed through her head, or being treated like dirt by someone who wasn't just doing their job but going out of their way to make her life miserable. If Haggs tried anything…

"Good morning. I trust you slept well?" Haggs said politely. 

Gadget waited for the punch line, which experience suggested might be more punch than line. It didn't come. 

"Everyone's so sorry and sympathetic after that terrible business yesterday." Haggs patronised her. "That dreadful Doctor Schadenfreude. You know I never trusted him. Mind you, the warden had her suspicions as well, I think. She called the Medical Council herself, you know." 

"Doctor Schadenfreude?" Gadget frowned. There was still an ugly taste in her mouth from yesterday's dose of sedatives. Cotton wool and lemon peal, yuck. 

"Yes, nasty, eccentric little creature. I've always suspected that some psychiatrists go into the profession because they're a little mad in the first place and he certainly seems to prove it." 

Gadget tried to move carefully and discovered that Officer Haggs' new civility did not run to waking her before placing restraints around her wrists and ankles. 

"I'm afraid that it seems that the warden herself doesn't have quite enough evidence to bar the Doctor from the prison entirely, so I'm afraid that you will have to endure another session with him." Haggs continued. "I'm just here to take you to him but, bare up, I think it will be your last." 

Gadget was just digesting this new information when Haggs leaned down to pull her upright, putting her mouth next to Gadget's ear as she did so. "One way or another." Haggs whispered, straight into her ear.

Raising an eyebrow, Gadget cast a wary eye towards the door to her maximum-security cell. Sure enough, the peephole was open and a dark, beady eye glinted from the other side. Haggs was being watched. Gadget smirked to herself. She wondered how Haggs liked being under the microscope for a change. 

"I'm going to take you to see Doctor Schadenfreude now. He thought he would give you a morning session, seeing as he's not sure he will be a licensed psychiatrist this afternoon. Malpractice can be very serious. I'm not sure that he won't be wearing some handcuffs of his own before the dust settles." Haggs pulled Gadget into a standing position. 

Interesting, Gadget thought, the orderlies had been more careful about handling her before. Perhaps now the attention was on Haggs, she would find the opportunity to make a break for it.

"Just be sure you mind your Ps and Qs during your session. He's still a Doctor, for the moment, and entitled to some respect." A nimble pair of claws pinched Gadget on the ear that was out of sight from the doorway peephole. "We wouldn't want you saying the wrong thing to him and getting into trouble now, would we? That's a good little loony-toon." Haggs reached out to pat her on the head, then stopped and smirked at Gadget's hair, which was still standing on end after yesterday's high-voltage perm. 

Gadget thought about it and nodded as discretely as possible. Deep inside of her head where no one else could hear, she caught herself singing a little tune she had heard Chip singing under his breath when he was preoccupied with a case: "You're going down, you're going down, you're going down…" It wasn't much of a song she had thought at the time - it took delight in another's downfall. That wouldn't stop her singing it from now on. Some people deserved to fall. When they did and she had a personal stake in it, she would take her pleasure as she found it. 

91

Doctor Schadenfreude hung dejectedly (by his feet) in the room where he and the patient he had come to think of as "Not Gadget Hackwrench" had spent their last session. He was not looking forward either to his meeting with her, or the meeting that he knew would come afterwards, when both he and Warden Phelps would be giving evidence to the Medical Council. 

He heard the rattle of her chains down the corridor, beside her, the heavier footfalls of a much larger guard. Frowning, he tried to think of a way to handle what he anticipated would be a traumatised, mistrustful, delusional young lady who apparently had violent tendencies. 

He hoped to authorise her transfer to a full time mental hospital before he left for his two o'clock meeting with the Medical Council across town but, even with the favour he had called in from an old friend who ran the main asylum, he would need his patient's co-operation to pull it off. There was no point in committing her if she carried on the way she had with him – any competent doctor would simply return her to the prison as a fraud trying to work an incompetence defence at an appeal. It wouldn't be easy to persuade her - he was prepared to give it all morning if had to and, he suspected, he probably would. 

To his shock, he heard a familiar voice outside the door. 

"Now, here we are!" and then in a low whisper, the same voice added: "Just you remember, HE is on his way out of here, but you and me are going to be together for a lifetime. How long THAT is, is up to you." 

Haggs. They had chosen Officer Haggs, of all people, to escort his patient to his session with her. 

The door opened before he could think what to do. He had heard the threat but if he confronted the officer, she would simply deny it. 

It didn't occur to him that Gadget had heard the threat too. Even if pressed, he would never admit that it was because she didn't count as a witness. 

The door opened and, even after hearing Haggs' threat, Doctor Schadenfreude was startled to see the beautiful young mouse maid who-was-not-Gadget-Hackwrench hanging her head in the doorway. She was bound in neck, wrist and leg irons linked by the heaviest chains he had ever seen used on a prisoner, so much so that she was having trouble standing upright. 

She entered, sullenly, her ears laid back so far she could hardly see them and her tail drooping. For a moment, Schadenfreude forgot his professional detachment and his heart went out to her. 

"What did you want to see me for, Doctor?" she asked when she was sitting down.

"How are you feeling, my most unfortunate young lady?"

"Better than I might well have been feeling today, after what almost happened yesterday." She looked at him reproachfully. 

The bat shrivelled. "I am most sorry for your ordeal. I prescribed only a small amount of sedative to calm you and an anti-hallucinogen to prevent any more worrying solo conversations. I never dreamed that someone would add their own ideas to my prescription." 

She-who-was-not-Gadget-Hackwrench looked back at him carefully. "The last time we met, you made it very clear that you don't believe in me. Why should I believe in you?"

Doctor Schadenfreude's jaw dropped. "Young lady, surely you don't believe that I would deliberately subject any creature in my care to such treatment? Electroshock is a procedure reserved for the most intractable cases of depression, requiring the most skilled and careful medical skill to produce the desired results, which are not one hundred percent certain in any case." 

"Doctor, I have led a dangerous life. There have been times when I lay awake at night wondering what would happen if I were to die a violent death. I have wondered what would become of me if I was crippled and yet I always knew that it was worth the risks because what I was doing was helping people. That it was good. That it would make my father proud. But it never once occurred to me that I might end up unable to think, or not knowing who I was." The young inmate looked at him seriously. "After yesterday, I realise that if I stay in this kind of place, a mental ward, that is what will eventually happen to me." 

Doctor Schadenfreude looked back at her, equally seriously. "Then you have a difficult choice before you." 

"Between electroshock therapy and playing along with your psychotherapy until I think I'm somebody else?" 

"No. No, I mean between agreeing with my diagnosis that you are delusional, going to a mental hospital and co-operating with whatever treatment the doctors there feel you need or, on the other wing, I am willing to certify you as sane and put you back into the main prison population." Seeing his patient open her mouth to answer, Doctor Schadenfreude rushed on. "I would be willing to do this at your request, to keep you out of reach of Officer Haggs, but consider the long term: Officer Haggs' assignment to this wing of the prison is short term. Your stay in this prison is not."

Doctor Schadenfreude paused to see if his patient was considering this. He was glad to see that she was. "If you were to go to a mental ward, you might spend a year, perhaps two years in a hospital, well away from Officer Haggs. You would be expected to cooperate with the doctors, and how long you spent there would depend on your stubbornness on this point of being Gadget Hackwrench. If you did not co-operate then you would either be there for a very long time, or they might perhaps return you to the prison if they felt that you were shamming. But if you did cooperate with them, my young lady! If you did cooperate then after perhaps only a year or two, you could go to the courts and ask them to reconsider your sentence. Public feeling against you would have died down by then, with evidence from your doctors that you were unwell and misused by corrupt and cynical people who thought only of their own gain and then abandoned you; only the harshest judges could confirm a sentence of fifteen years."

Doctor Schadenfreude beamed at her hopefully. He had given it his best shot, now it was up to her.

Across the table, the young lady looked at him in a strange way. It was almost as if he had asked her if she would like to go out on date when she got out. "Doctor…" she asked, "should you be telling me something like that? After all, I'm convicted of a fairly serious crime."

"If I am sure about anything, it is that I am looking at someone who is sincere in their beliefs and who has a good heart, even if her head is a little clouded at the moment."

The Doctor was shocked to see her eyes fill with tears. 

"Thank you. I'm sorry, but that means so much now. I haven't heard anyone say a nice thing about me in weeks. I used to think that I didn't need to hear people say good things about me because one time I went for practically a whole year without hearing anyone say anything at all, but then I wasn't hearing bad things said about me every day and now I am and that makes a difference." 

The bat dug into his Doctor's bag and pulled out a hankie for her to blow her nose on. Thanks to the restraints Haggs had locked her into, she had to lower her head until it was almost touching the table before her hands could reach. 

"'D'ank you." She said. "Doctor, I can't spend any more time in a mental ward. Like I said, I'm going to go crazy if I stay here!"

"But if you go back, you will be with the other prisoners, who may hurt you."

"I was nearly hurt yesterday, and in a way I don't think the other prisoners here could top! I could have ended up looking like the bride of Frankenstein and, considering the effects of electricity on the mammalian brain, probably with about as much vocabulary." 

"That won't happen – or at least, it is far less likely to happen in a proper hospital." 

"But I'll almost certainly be medicated." 

"I think it's only fair to accept that would part of your treatment." 

"And electroshock?"

"Almost certainly not. Unless you became clinically depressed during your time there and they feel it is necessary to restore you to good health."

"Unless I became depressed during those two years that I would be in the mental hospital, facing a possible fifteen year prison sentence when they decide I'm cured, with no way to contact my friends and nothing to do but brood about where I am while everyone tries to convince me I'm not who I think I am? Hmm, let me think about that for a moment…" She looked at him levelly for two seconds. "Doctor, I can't spend two years in a place like this." 

"How long can you stand to be in the normal prison?"

His patient set her jaw and took a deep breath. "I am Gadget Hackwrench. I don't belong in here. There has been a case of mistaken identity. I will not serve the sentence I was given because when this miscarriage of justice is discovered, I will be set free. It might – " she took a deep breath " – take a lot longer than I believed possible, weeks, perhaps even months, but it will not take fifteen years." 

Schadenfreude's eyes locked with his patient's. His were sad; hers were defiant. "But what will you do, my young friend, if you are mistaken? What if you are crazy and you are here for the next fifteen years?"

She seemed paralysed for a moment. Then she blinked and said: "If I'm not Gadget Hackwrench, I did everything that they say I did… then I belong in prison."

"Not if you did them because you were unwell. Do you remember doing them?" 

"No. I remember only what I always have. Travelling the world on my father's knee when I was four. Not fitting in with the other cubs in school. Losing my father, then being alone for about a year before Monty found me again." 

"Then why say you deserve to spend time in jail for something that you don't remember doing?"

"If I'd done something I didn't remember because I was drunk when I did it, or because I'd been hit across the back of the head since I got here, would that mean I deserved to walk out the front door?" 

There was silence for a moment. 

"Its odd you should choose those two things as examples, especially since I know that you were drunk when you were arrested and that you yourself told me you were hit by Officer Haggs when you arrived here." Doctor Schadenfreude remarked politely.

"Golly, I only meant that forgetting something isn't the same as being pardoned for it!"

"That is a very noble view, young lady, and it may be one fitting for Gadget Hackwrench but if you are not her, surely you should consider the view of a young person who's mind is clouded and future most doubtful. What would you say if you had to make decisions for her?"

"If she was crazy, I would want her to get the treatment she needed. But first I'd need to be sure she was crazy." 

"She's facing a fifteen year jail sentence and when she's offered an easy way out, she turns it down! What better proof would you need?"

"That's not crazy – it's integrity." 

"Young lady, at nine o'clock we will both be able to settle this issue of who is and is not crazy." 

"We will? How?" 

"Mister Chip Maplewood of the Rescue Rangers is coming here to the prison to interview you about the whereabouts of three dangerous criminals who are still at large following the attempted kidnap of the real Gadget Hackwrench! Once he has seen you, we will see if you belong in the big asylum under the downtown Early Learning Centre or not!"

"Jeepers! Chip is coming here? To see me?" The young mouse maid was grinning from ear to ear.

"Yah, and I hope – "

"YAHOO! I'M GOING HOME!" 

Schadenfreude whimpered and tried to stuff his wings in his ears.

Gadget's shout was plainly audible outside the door. Officer Haggs would have been able to hear it even if she hadn't left the door just barely ajar so that she could listen in as she stood beside it, as though guarding the privacy of doctor and patient. Knowing that a bat's hearing is sensitive, if not just how sensitive, Haggs suppressed the urge to chuckle. This was going to be entertaining. 

92

Chip caught the morning seagull to the prison when dawn was just a grey mist on the horizon. It was eight o'clock when he arrived. From above ground level, the entrance to Shrankshaw prison was through a drainage grate in an exercise yard of the human prison above. Any casual passer-by would have trouble even seeing it, since it was in the centre of the courtyard and located in a slight dip in the ground. Chip knew it was there because the seagull had dropped him off next to the upturned wooden shipping crate that housed the sentry post for Shrankshaw prison, where he had signed in and presented his credentials. 

Alsatian dogs patrolled the inside of the human prison's perimeter fence. The very thought of these sharp eyed, keen hearing predators, with a sense of smell that was well over five hundred times sharper than a human's, was enough to frighten any small animal. Dogs were pack hunters, unlike cats, which had a weaker sense of smell and which were smaller and less likely to be accompanied by humans.

A sentry from the shipping crate introduced Chip to the two dogs who were on duty that morning. Chip tried to look as though it didn't bother him when they each sniffed one side of his body but allowing a predator to get his scent would never be something he would feel comfortable with, even if it was to make sure he wasn't mistaken for a criminal.

The worst part of getting in was crossing the human exercise yard itself. Hooded cloaks the same colour as the concrete ground were provided at the edge of the square. Good enough to avoid the notice of the armed human guards around the walls and in the sentry towers but it would never fool the superior vision of a bird of prey, though, and Chip would just have to hope that none would be overhead while he was exposed.  

Once into the drain itself, life became easier. There was a row of pegs, some already with concrete pattern camouflage cloaks hanging on them, to which Chip added his own. He followed the arrows along the pipeline, grateful that the night's rain had stopped before daybreak and that he wouldn't get his feet wet, until he got to a heavy round metal door that seemed to have been made out of a 250 gram weight from a set of kitchen scales. A length of thick fishing twine with a loop at the bottom hung next to a sign that said: "Pull for Guard to Open Door." 

Chip did, several times, then counted to one hundred before pulling it again. He got as far as eighty-four before the door swung inwards. 

A plump lady chipmunk, who seemed just barely older than him, smiled broadly. "Mister Maplewood? The sentry called us on our new intercom system and told us you were coming. My name's Marion Cedar, I'm the Deputy Warden here." 

"Yes. Do you want to see my credentials?" 

"In case you were mugged and an impostor took your place between the sentry post and here? It seems ridiculous, but the Warden does like us to go by the book."

Chip handed over a small parcel of documents that had been wrapped in wax-coated paper. Marion Cedar looked at the documents at first politely and then with mounting interest. Some of the documents were similar to the ones she carried herself, occasionally but others were signed by officials from the Rescue Aid Society, City Street Watch, Statton City Mayor's Office and the Thorn Valley Border Guard. Mister Maplewood life was every bit as exotic as she had heard, it seemed. 

Marion Cedar edged closer to him as she handed the documents back. "Would you like to see the warden first? I understand that the psychiatrist is keen to talk to you before you have your interview."

"With the warden?" Chip asked, puzzled, as he followed her deeper into the prison. 

"No, of course not, with the impostor." 

"Ah yes. I reviewed the court transcripts before coming here. They seemed… short." 

"Yes, I heard that it was very quick trial."

"Quick trial? They went from arraignment to sentence in less than seven hours. That's practically unheard of, even in district animal courts, especially for crimes this serious where the accused hasn't entered a guilty plea." Chip frowned to himself.

"You think there might have been a miscarriage of justice?"

"I think that an appeal would have a good chance, especially if the mood of the crowd in the public gallery was accurately reported. And I also hear that her lawyer went into hibernation before sentence was passed." 

"You believe she may have been wrongly convicted?" Marion watched him closely, puzzled. He didn't seem upset by the thought that a guilty mouse might be set free, but seemed impossible that Chip Maplewood of all people might believe the mouse in the psychiatric wing might be innocent. 

"It's possible."

Marion tried to make out Chip's expression. She couldn't, his face was too carefully composed. He looked thoughtful, serious and slightly preoccupied. Aware she had already asked perhaps more questions than was seemly, Marion found herself fighting her desire to know more and losing. "Forgive my curiosity, but I understood from the newspapers that Gadget Hackwrench was safe in hospital – "

"I wouldn't put any faith in what you read in newspapers." Chip said shortly. 

Marion fell silent. Did that incredible statement mean the real Gadget Hackwrench was lying, chained, buried in the prison beneath them? It seemed impossible. Still, a ripple of disquiet ran through her as she pictured the public reaction to such a scandal. 

They walked in silence for some distance and only when Marion realised they had almost reached the Warden's office did she speak again. "I'm sorry, Mister Maplewood, may I ask? Are you suggesting that the young mouse we have here is the real Gadget Hackwrench?"

For the first time Maplewood's face showed real emotion. Surprise. "Uh – no, that wasn't what I meant." He collected himself and almost at once his face was the thoughtful, serious mask again. "It's possible that the prisoner you have was simply a drunken troublemaker who tried to get out of trouble by giving a false name." 

"She continues to claim that she's Gadget Hackwrench." 

Chip's ears went up. "Oh? I did wonder if maybe she was some kind of nut case who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time." 

"You seem fairly sure she's been wrongly convicted." 

"No – No, I can't say that. She could turn out to be the very person I'm hoping to see." Chip's face was back to being thoughtful and serious. 

Marion looked sideways at him, her head filled with one burning question. Who was he hoping to see here? Something about the way he had spoken so carefully caused Marion to wonder if his interest in the prisoner was professional or personal. She wanted to ask but she didn't want him to think she was prying. Now they had reached the office she could do nothing except ask Mister Maplewood to please wait here for just a moment while the Warden was told he had arrived.  

Marion Cedar closed the office door behind her, grateful that it had a thick cork lining to keep whatever was said inside private, in spite of the superhuman hearing that most creatures possessed. Fanning her face with her clipboard, she rolled her eyes and smiled. "Wow! He really is everything they say he is." 

Warden Phelps had been using an atomizer to freshen up her office for the visitor. She raised an eyebrow at her old friends girlish enthusiasm. "I take it Mister Maplewood has arrived?" 

"Oh yes… he's waiting outside, just say the word and I'll show him in!"

"You seem quite taken with him… Have you asked him out yet, or do you want me to ask him for you?" the Warden teased.

"Gertrude!" the Deputy Warden cried. It wasn't a reproach; it was the Warden's first name. "You wouldn't!" 

"Of course not! If you're going to ask him out, you'll have to do it yourself. I don't think that your husband will be too happy about it though." 

"No, I suppose he wouldn't. Though I see you've made an effort to look your best. Are those new earrings?"

"We'll discuss it later." The warden replied evasively. "Well, show him in – we can't have him waiting out there all day." 

"No, we can't." Marion agreed. 

Warden Phelps watched her old friend compose herself before showing Maplewood in. Part of her was annoyed at herself for acting out of the ordinary. It wasn't as if she had ever met Chip Maplewood, let alone harboured any strong feelings for him; she only knew about him from newspaper reports and occasional piece of gossip. Still, he was slightly famous and he did have a reputation for being very brave, daring and clever. 

Her first impression when Chip Maplewood entered the room was of a strikingly hansom male chipmunk a good five to ten years younger than herself who wore an intensely serious expression. He had the robust, stocky build of all chipmunks but where most chipmunks would have built up a heavy layer of fat ready for winter, even if they didn't plan to hibernate, Maplewood seemed to have built muscles on muscles. He wore a brown leather bomber jacket of a type that had actually gone out of fashion some years ago and a hat that hadn't been in fashion since the nineteen-thirties. Both the hat and jacket were clean and had been carefully repaired many times. She realised his quick brown eyes were measuring her and their surroundings. Only when he had finished did he make eye contact and nod to her with a polite smile.

"Warden Phelps?" he enquired.

"Yes. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mister Maplewood." Were those fruit flies in her stomach? They felt big enough to be butterflies. 

"Of course. Nice… uh, I mean, well run prison you have here." 

Warden Phelps laughed. "Well, I suppose nice doesn't really describe any prison. We do our best, though I find it difficult to believe that you've seen enough to form an opinion just on your way to my office."

"Oh well, I may not of seen much but from what I've heard, if I ever had to be locked up… uh, I mean-" Chip grimaced as he remembered that this was a woman's prison. His polite joke could be taken a very different way. "Would you like to see any of my identification? I've already shown it twice…" There was a faint look of panic in his eyes. 

"Don't worry, you haven't made that bad an impression! I just wanted to have a word with you about the prisoner you came to see. In a moment our psychiatrist should be along to add a few words of his own." 

Chip cocked an ear. "Really?"

"She's a rather unusual subject. We don't know what to call her – the closest we have to a name for her is 'the prisoner who isn't Gadget Hackwrench', which is rather a mouthful. If we don't get a better one for her soon, I can see people shortening it to just 'Gadget Hackwrench'." 

Chip's eyes narrowed. "I'd prefer that didn't happen."

"She seems determined to play the role to the bitter end. I don't think there's any force on earth that could convince her that she isn't the real thing. In fact, she's been asking for you since she arrived." 

"Is that so?" 

To the Warden's practiced eye, Maplewood's thoughtful expression seemed studied, as if he had rehearsed it. She wondered whether he was thinking about something else, like his shopping list, or hiding the fact that he was flattered. There were few males who were unimpressed by the idea of a damsel in distress calling their name and, given Maplewood's chosen profession, she doubted he was one of them. 

"Our psychiatrist is rather worried by that, in fact." She felt it was important to remind him. 

"I'm sure your psychiatrist will tell me when I see him." 

Warden Phelps' smile became a little strained. "Marion," she asked, "would you go and see what has become as our resident headshrinker, will you?" 

"Of course." Marion agreed, sympathetically. 

"She's an unusual girl." The Warden continued when she was gone. 

"In what way?"

"She had a lock pick tied to her tail when she got here. Even though she knew it could have unpleasant consequences for her, she turned it in at the gate. In all honesty, I doubt that we would have found it, if she kept quiet. She seems sincere, almost naïve. She's even passed on information about a prisoner who might possibly be suffering abuse. I believe she may have placed herself in danger by doing that, whether she knows it or not is another matter."

"Anything else?"

"She also seems to have had a raw deal. Her lawyer went into hibernation before the verdict was announced and isn't expected to wake up before the spring. He didn't have a proxy, so she can't even replace him until he wakes up."

"The hibernation protection act?"

"Yes. I have several people in here at the moment because of that well-meaning but poorly written piece of legislation."

"I've seen too many victims of scams, foreclosures and loan-sharks not to value the act for the protection it gives the helpless." 

"All things considered, I really would appreciate it if you could give us your insight into the girl's situation."

"I'll be happy to, once I've seen her myself. Warden, I can see that, like me, you're an extremely busy person with a lot of responsibilities. I've no desire to take up more of your time than I have to, or be any kind of a nuisance to you, so how about your psychiatrist talks me through his concerns while we walk down to her cell or, uh, whatever room you've set aside for this interview?"

"I hope you can find time to discuss your findings with me afterwards." Warden Phelps said wryly. 

Deputy Warden Marion Cedar put her head into the office. "Doctor Schadenfreude is here." 

"Thanks for allowing me to interview your prisoner, Warden." Chip shook her hand sincerely and Warden Phelps silently forgave him their slight difference of opinion. 

93

Chip found himself puzzled by the German sounding bat. The psychiatrist seemed as absent minded as Gadget and foolish as Dale but, as he listened to the Doctor talk, Chip swiftly realised that he was in the presence of someone who knew his stuff and knew it well. 

"Our patient is suffering from profound delusions and possibly a case of split personality." Doctor Schadenfreude told Chip on their way to the psychiatric wing. "These conditions seem to be deeply entrenched, too much so for them to have developed recently. I believe she has spent longer and longer obsessing about Gadget Hackwrench, fantasising about being her for longer and longer, until she ceased to think as her true self at all. Initially, I believed this was her only problem but she has since begun to show signs of possible schizophrenia, including auditory and ocular hallucinations."

"Is she violent?" 

"I didn't think so until yesterday. Though she had shouted at me several times, which is most unpleasant for a bat, she was most apologetic afterwards and I took her explanation of frustration and forgetfulness at face value. Then yesterday there was a most regrettable incident that I am not comfortable discussing in front of an outsider."

"I'm sorry to press you, Doctor Schadenfreude, but if I'm going to be in the same room as her I feel I need to know."

"Ach, very well, then, I will tell you as much as I can. There was a mistake of some kind made in the instructions given to the orderlies and they took her to receive a treatment that I had not prescribed. Although she was heavily drugged she became violent when she realised what was happening. She did this to one of the orderlies." 

Schadenfreude held up a tiny photo that had been taken for prison records. The mouse orderly Gadget had sent to the infirmary was shown lying in bed with her head heavily bandaged and thermometer sticking out of her mouth. Chip looked at it and winced.

"I have to caution you," Doctor Schadenfreude said, "however harmless she seems, she has a capacity to inflict great harm when her fury is awakened." 

"Uh, Doc, have you any idea what kind of mood she's going to be in?" 

"She was in a moderately consolatory mood the last time I saw her but I know she has reason to be disgruntled. She has been with a guard she dislikes most of the day. I had hoped to address her feelings about yesterday's incident but I wasn't able to make much progress with her when I spoke to her this morning. I fear I may have lost her confidence as a psychiatrist."

Chip stopped walking and held up a paw to intrude. "Doctor, if that's the case, I don't think I'm going to make much progress with you there. I'm going to need her to get her on my side. And if she really believes that she is Gadget, then she will talk much more freely to me than to both of us."

"You intend to humour her?"

"It had occurred to me." 

"I cannot urge you against it strongly enough. Her original personality is already deeply buried. With reinforcement from you she may never return to her true self." 

"What if I confront her with the truth?"

"It could shatter both personalities forever and leave us with just a shell, a catatonic."

"The warden mentioned you were concerned about that. I have to be honest, Doc, I don't see what difference it really makes. Sane or not, she's going to be behind bars." 

The bat's heckles rose. "It makes a great deal of difference. The mad can be cured, usually, and are not held responsible for their actions in law, particularly if those actions were instigated by others." 

Chip looked at him speculatively. He had heard of woolly-minded liberals with good intentions, who wanted to put all the criminals back on the streets as soon as they were jailed, but this was the first time he had actually met one. (Gadget didn't count, he thought.) He'd have to keep in mind that this guy was just trying to help – it wouldn't do to antagonize him. He kept his voice level and reasonable. "Hey, doc, has it occurred to you that she may be lying to you just to get out of here?" 

Doctor Schadenfreude gave Chip a hard glare. "What an original thought. It reminds me of the one I had during my first session with her, when I thought she was probably just trying to talk her way out of trouble. Mister Maplewood, please remember that I am not merely some kind of turnkey. I am a trained, experienced professional and in my view she has a mental problem, possibly several." 

"Several?"

"She shows some signs of having hallucinations, which you might expect with a delusional state, but she also seems to be very suffering some kind of chronic fatigue. That could be due to her trial and admission to prison, which would have been more than usually taxing on someone in her mental condition, but it does not seem to have improved in the time she has been on our ward. 

"She has nightmares almost every night and shows various other symptoms of post traumatic stress syndrome, such as a nervous twitch when under pressure. She also shows signs of having unresolved grief issues. She has told me that she lost both parents in similar circumstances, some years apart and although you clearly believe she is lying I think some of what she has told me about her early life may be genuine memories of her own… the memories are detailed and hold details that most people would not create if they were merely fantasizing. Also, not many details of Ms Hackwrench's early life are known publicly." 

No, they aren't, Chip thought. Even I don't know many of the details because talking about them reminds her of her father, Gewgaw, and that makes her sad so I don't ask. With a bit of detective work a resourceful person might find out quite a bit if he – if _they_ had no scruples about snooping and violating other people's privacy. But how much could a nutcase find out? He ought to find out how much this… person had discovered, if only to find out whether Gadget's privacy had been violated. No one could accuse him of not conducting a thorough investigation… or snooping, come to that.

"Really? You wouldn't care to share a few details, would you? I could tell you whether they really are based on Gadget's early life. I don't know much," his conscience forced him to admit, "but she has told me one or two details." 

A moment of silence grew between them. Just one of the memories that Gadget had relived for the doctor would have been enough for Chip to know her instantly. He loved her enough for that, whatever his faults as a detective. 

"I can't possibly tell you anything like that. Whatever a patient shares with me during a session is confidential, as you should know." Doctor Schadenfreude said eventually. 

Chip sighed. "Well, it's up to you. But I think the best thing to do is for me to go in alone and see where things go from there."

"Very well, but I'd appreciate it if you kept me informed." 

"You won't share your information, but you expect me to share mine? Doctor, the warden has already okayed my visit and is looking forward to discussing my views on the prisoner. I don't need your permission to do this and I'd like to see the inmate now." 

Doctor Schadenfreude opened the door in front of them and stepped aside. "I think you can find the rest of the way yourself, Mister Maplewood." 

Chip looked down a short darkened corridor that had a door at the far end. On the left hand wall were three cells with ceiling to floor bars. The first two were darkened and unoccupied. The last one had light shining out of it, casting long vertical shadows on the opposite wall. Though Chip could not see into the cell from where he was standing, he noted that the occupant would be visible from the peephole in the other door. A single matchbox had been set out for him as a stool in front of the cell, some way back from a thick white line of correction fluid that someone had drawn on the floor about an arm's length from the bars. 

Slowly, with a nervousness he had not expected to feel, he made his way down the corridor. What kind of monster in angelic form would be waiting for him? 

Chip advanced, staying well out of arm's reach of all the cells. He found himself trying to see the prisoner before she could see him. 

The sight of the hockey mask strapped across her face to prevent her biting hit him like a slap in the face. He had wanted nothing more than to triumphantly declare that he could tell the difference between Gadget and the impostor, even when so many others had been fooled – proof that he knew Gadget better than anyone. With that thought in his mind, he began comparing the prisoner in the cell to the mouse he loved. 

The light was dim and dirty and Chip wondered if it was like that all the time, twenty-four hours a day. It was coming from above and behind, shining on a tight, denim straitjacket that emphasised the prisoner's ample charms. Rodent hospitals and prisons used denim because the canvas used in human straitjackets was far too thick to use in mouse-sized straitjackets. Chip's eyes travelled up the prisoner's body and confirmed that those well-emphasised charms, along with her general build and proportions, were identical to the ones that he had spent so long studying in Ranger HQ.

Her hair was darker than Gadget's and hung around her shoulders like tangled vines around a statue in an unattended garden. With hair like that, anyone would have an uphill battle to prove their sanity from the moment they entered a room, Chip thought. The analytical part of his mind noted that the prisoner's true hair colour showed through the dye job close to the scalp, where new growth was. If she had dyed her hair because someone had told her that Gadget was a redhead then she had made a mistake: the prisoner's natural hair colour was a far better match for the real Gadget's hair.  

Perhaps Chip had put off looking into her eyes because knew they could never measure up to Gadget's, or perhaps it was because he had been so busy considering her form that he had forgotten to pay her any consideration as a person, but he could put it off no longer. The detective found himself looking into the eyes of the lunatic. 

Chip had never seen such a look in anyone's eyes before and had never imagined he would – it was part desperation, part frustration and part fury, all in equal measures – but even as he felt his emotions shrink back from the creature in front of him, he was struck by their colour. Those terrible eyes were the exact same colour as Gadget's eyes. Just for a split second he expected to see them to be the same intelligent, caring sapphires that he had lost his heart in long ago, simply because they were the same shade of cornflower blue. 

How foolish of him. Nobody in a place like this could have eyes like Gadget. 

"I came to ask a few simple questions." He said, his mouth dry. "Are you willing to cooperate?" 

The prisoner nodded as much as she was able. 

Chip hauled the matchbox chair over to the white line. "I hear you're Gadget Hackwrench." He kept his voice light and good humoured, ready to tilt towards sympathy or sarcasm depending on her reply. 

The prisoner nodded and grunted. So unlike Gadget, Chip thought. He couldn't imagine her answering a question like that in less than a hundred words. 

"They say you've been asking for me." Chip prodded again, making it sound as though he doubted "them".

Abruptly the prisoner writhed in her straitjacket. 

There was no doubt she was just trying to get loose but the half-light of the cell gave her struggles a suggestive undertone. Chip said nothing but a shiver ran through him as he watched. If someone had asked him, he couldn't have said why. Finally she slumped back into the restraints, the sound of heavy breathing audible from behind her mask. 

Chip tried to remain poker-faced. He wasn't sure what effect, if any, that display had been intended to have on him but he wanted it clearly understood that it had failed. 

"Was that it? Did you call me here to watch a badly rehearsed escape routine?" Chip stared soulfully into her wild blue eyes with his own, which were serious and brown. "At the very least I thought you might have something to **_say_** to me."

Chip was certain of getting **_something_** from her now, some word or expression that would be a giveaway to a trained detective… but her face was darkly shadowed in the half light of her cell and her hair, which might once have looked like Gadget's but had since been butchered by the prison barber, had fallen across the part of her face the hockey mask did not cover. The detective couldn't read her expression at all. He wondered whether she had provoked the guards into putting the mask on her in order to keep her face hidden. If it was the sort of strategy she had based her career of deception on, he was sorely disappointed. 

"I want to know what hideouts your gang has used in the past." 

The mouse made a gasping sound and tried to shake her head, but found the hockey mask too heavy and wound up nodding from side to side. 

"You will regret it if you don't answer. I can put in a good word for you. Arrange privileges that most inmates have to earn with years of good behaviour. But someone who can put in a good word… well, if they're so inclined, they can put in a bad word too. And there are worse places than this, ya know." 

The cornflower eyes above the hockey mask widened with shock. 

Encouraged, Chip pressed on. "It's sort of like what that human, Dante, wrote about hell… There are levels of punishment, but the people who have to live here don't get to see them, so they all believe that they are in the worst place possible. It's only the people who get the full tour, the ones who are just passing through so to speak, who get to see all the bad places they could be." Chip looked the prisoner in the eyes. She was staring at him like he was a hungry snake who had just hypnotized her. "Believe me, I've had the tour. There are places that make this look pretty good. You've got your own cell, they feed you regularly and there's no one to steal your food. You get medical attention. A nice, sympathetic doctor who listens to your stories about how the world hasn't treated you right. So, if you want to stay here, get let out of that straitjacket, you should definitely cooperate with me. Who knows, maybe I could even get you something to read in here. You like magazines?" 

Throughout Chip's sales pitch, the inmate's eyes had been growing rounder and more amazed. The visible part of her face suggested either shock or horror. And still she was silent!

How could she – how could anyone, much less anyone who claimed to be Gadget Hackwrench, remain silent for so long? Was she gagged or something? With a shake of his head, Chip smiled ruefully at the thought of what it would take to silence the mouse he was so fond of. Then, seeing that he had only one option left, he lent close to the bars and whispered: "Gadget? Is that you? Make a circle with your tail if it is." 

The effect on the prisoner was electric. The end of her tail drew little circles in the air then stopped, hesitated, and the whole tail rolled itself into a loop, as if unsure of what Chip had in mind. 

Chip smiled. He had a bite… finally. "Can't talk right now, huh?" 

The tail "nodded". 

Chip nodded back and blinked in amazement at how easily his attention had been transferred to a mere body part. If it was this easy to stop people looking at your face, no wonder the impostor had gotten away with it for so long.

"Afraid someone might be listening in? It's okay, I understand. Oh Lord, it's good to see you again, sweetheart." Chip pulled a newspaper from inside his jacket and showed a headline with a picture of a chained Brandon fighting half a dozen Street Watch guards in a gutter as they tried to put him in the back of a prison van. "We got the ringleader." He said. 

The tail hooked itself into a remarkably good impression of a question mark. 

Chip put the newspaper away again and sighed heavily. "Gadget, we pretty much know all the what's and where's but we don't know any of the who's or why's, so we aren't half done wrapping this thing up yet. I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that means you're going to have to stay where you are a while longer. Can you do that for me?"

At the mention of staying in jail the tail jolted upright like a startled exclamation mark, every hair standing on end as though it had been plugged into a light socket. By the time Chip had finished speaking, the tail was waggling like the finger of a reproving schoolteacher. 

"Oh, c'mon… what would Monty say? We're all counting on you to carry on pretending to be a real prison inmate. I know you probably feel like we've all abandoned you, but if any of us had shown up before now it would have tipped off the bad guys. Why, if they knew that you were the real McCoy, they'd know for sure the Gadget with us is really their phoney and they'd stop at nothing to silence her before she tells us everything." 

Chip smiled at her and watched as tears replaced the desperation in her eyes. Part of him cringed at the thought of making a sick, helpless girl cry, but something else seemed to drive him on. Perhaps it was the thought of all the people who had been deceived in Gadget's name. 

"We might be able to protect the impostor from whoever is behind this whole thing, but that wouldn't leave us any time to chase down what leads we have and there's always the chance that some innocent might get hurt in the crossfire. You couldn't live with yourself if that happened when you could have prevented it. I know you too well, Gadget." He leaned close and encouraged her. "Give me a sign that you'll stay here a little longer for me." 

The hockey mask clanked against the metal frame of the trolley the prisoner was strapped to. In spite of Chip's passionate appeal, the mouse was shaking her head in a desperate refusal to remain behind bars. 

Chip shook his head. He had been reasonably sure the speech he had just given would have convinced anybody, including the real Gadget, to do anything he asked. Then again, it was a marvel just how strong and resilient the real thing was, compared to this weak, unstable fraud. The girl in the straitjacket had been sane when she lied, seduced and betrayed her way around the country using Gadget's name, Chip would have bet his trademark hat and bomber jacket on that, but the trial and less than three weeks in this place had very nearly, if not very actually, unhinged her. Already she seemed to be an elective mute and even with the real Chip Maplewood standing in front of her, playing up to her "delusions" and telling her that she would only be for a little while she still couldn't put a brave face on being incarcerated. 

Clearly Schadenfreude hadn't been kidding when he said this was a fragile mind. Chip's conscience goaded him. Perhaps, the chipmunk decided, he could at least persuade her to speak. Doctor Schadenfreude couldn't object to him humouring his patient if it got her to talk; this silence must be making his job impossible. 

"Gadget, if you really want to come with me now and leave your job here unfinished, all you have to do is just ask me. Flat out. Tell me you want to come home now, loud and clear." Chip told her in a low voice. 

The prisoner stared at him. Even with the mask, there was no mistaking the flat disbelief on her face. 

Then, very slowly, she began to wink at him. 

Chip blinked. Then he remembered the nervous tic Doctor Schadenfreude had spoken about. With a heavy sigh, he rose from the chair and made his way out. He would learn nothing here. 

"Can I be of assistance?" A calm, professional voice enquired. It belonged to the large, female, white rat standing in the doorway he had entered through. 

"I don't think so." He told her. "Is Doctor Schadenfreude still waiting out there?" He owed the bat a partial apology at least, Chip thought. 

"No, he had an urgent appointment with the Medical Council. Something about a… Miss Conduct, whoever she might be."

Chip stared at her. "Miss Conduct?" He asked. 

"I'm afraid I don't know the name. I only heard it in passing. I'm sure you could make enquiries elsewhere and find out more, if you really wanted to know what it was about." The officer's tone was casual.

Chip wondered if she was as disinterested as she appeared. "Thank you." He said.

"I came to check on the inmate after your visit but since the doctor didn't leave anyone else here to escort you out, I'd better do that first. It's prison regulations and common sense too, I might add." She held the door open for him. "After you."

Chip silently accepted her lead. At the same time, he instinctively disliked the large white rat who seemed to be trying to cause trouble for the psychiatrist and recognised some of his own better qualities in her. Perhaps she had her reasons for causing trouble, and Chip was puzzling what those reasons could be while the officer showed him out. He was thinking hard and walking with his head down, so it was left to Haggs to look back at the pair of desperate, pleading blue eyes with their unread message in the cell at the other end of the corridor. 

94

"Doctor Schadenfreude has had to leave for an important meeting." Marion Cedar explained. "Warden Phelps was hoping that see you in person to ask about how your interview with our mystery prisoner went, but she had already promised to go with him." 

"To lend support?" Chip enquired politely.

"Yes." 

"Misconduct hearings can be tough." Chip commiserated.

"Can they? I mean, how did you know – " Marion gulped.

"I gossiped a little with one of the other staff. Ms Cedar, I don't know anything about the office politics of this prison and I find myself in an awkward position. May I be completely honest with you and count on you to be… discrete? Please don't answer too quickly, I realise you have no reason to keep anything I say confidential from your warden, who I don't doubt you are very loyal to." 

Marion looked Mister Maplewood in the eye. "You're right. I've known Warden Phelps for ten years and she's my friend as well as my superior. She does a job I don't think I could do and she does it well, in my opinion. But if there's something you need to know then I think you should ask me and if you won't do that unless I'm promise to keep quiet about it, well, I'd rather keep a confidence than have you to go off with the wrong idea." 

Chip Maplewood considered Marion Cedar for a moment and then he smiled. "_You know, it's a great relief to hear you say that._" He told her in their native, high-speed chipmunk babble. "_I'm afraid I didn't get along with the warden too well._" 

Marion grinned back and matched him. "_I don't think the warden bares a grudge. You just happened to pick one of her personal pet hates to talk about; that's all. Your visit was quite the highlight of her week, in fact._" 

"_It's nice of you to say so, but I got the impression she thinks highly of Doctor Schadenfreude and I'm afraid I didn't do too well with him either. I disagree with his professional opinion about this case."_ Chip confided in her.

_"I can understand your concerns, then! Doctor Schadenfreude has had a hard week – I can't see him welcoming any criticism today of all days._"

"_I thought that he knew his stuff pretty well but… well, he seemed a little too trusting, naïve even. I mean, I wouldn't have any reservations about him working in a normal mental institution but in a place like this where an inmate may have a deliberate intention to deceive…"_ Chip let the sentence trail off to nothing._ "What's your opinion of him?"_

Marion swallowed hard. The truth was that Gertrude Phelps was probably more objective when it came to Doctor Schadenfreude than she was. Most people thought the Doctor was eccentric at best. Margo Haggs had openly called him a bumbling idiot to Marion's face. The truth was that Marion liked the foreign-sounding bat. _"I like him and-"_ she hesitated _"-I trust him. He's been here nearly two years and he's got experience of cons looking for a little holiday until whomever they upset in the general population cools down. Anyway, I don't think normal psychiatric patients have a reputation for being completely truthful, either."_

Chip forced himself to be completely honest in return. "_I felt he had been taken in by a clever liar who wanted to base an appeal on an insanity plea. Of course, I based that on what I knew of her crimes from my investigations. There's no doubt in my mind that the person who impersonated Gadget Hackwrench was in her right mind at the time. It's harder to be absolutely sure of her motives but I'm fairly sure it was mostly done for material gain and not because she was threatened or feared for something or someone being held for ransom."_

_"Why's that?"_

_"The rest of the gang gave her too much freedom and independence for her to be anything other than one of them. She could have asked for help a hundred times in a hundred different ways but she didn't and, from all the evidence, she took time out from committing her crimes to have a lot of fun along the way."_ Chip preoccupied himself for a moment, picturing the kind of fun he had been told about time and again. It ranged from mindless, random violence to cold, cruel marriage wrecking. 

_"But you couldn't convince Doctor Schadenfreude? I've always found him to be very open minded."_ Marion said uncertainly.

Chip opened his mouth to reply and hesitated. "_I'm afraid I didn't explain it fully. I had a disagreement with him about sharing information."_ It sounded petty now he came to tell it to someone else.

"_Oh."_ Marion seemed disappointed. "_You're sure that he's been taken in then? I suppose I felt sorry for the girl, too."_

_"I'm not so sure… There's definitely something not right down there. She was in a straitjacket and a hockey mask. Is that normal for patients in your special wing?"_

_"No, we haven't used hockey masks in years. With the medication we have nowadays, it's hardly necessary. We might use gags if someone is trying to bite to the point where we have no choice. That way they can't bite themselves either; that was the problem with the old hockey masks."_

_"But you still have some in stock?"_

_"I should think so. We've got all kinds of old stuff around here. This prison has been around for nearly a hundred years. It's actually older than the human one above us because ours was established under the previous prison that was up top before, which they rebuilt on the same site, after the old one burned down. That would have been before any of us were born."_

_"The prisoner I saw was definitely wearing one, Ms. Cedar."_ Chip said softly and insistently.

_"She shouldn't have been." _

Chip became quiet and thoughtful as they walked back to the rack of camouflage cloaks that Chip had passed when he first entered the prison. "_Is the prisoner I saw normally quiet? Sullen? Reluctant to speak?"_

_"No. Quite the opposite. She's quite the babbler. She could give us a race, in fact. Was she quiet when you saw her?"_ Marion asked.

"_Silent as the grave. I could almost believe she was gagged under the mask." _

Chip froze just for a second. It didn't mean anything. They were talking about a person who was in prison for trying to impersonate Gadget Hackwrench. Of course the prisoner was going to babble. It was practically proof of guilt. Still, he found himself thinking: I have heard Gadget babble since the accident. When she saw me at the hospital, after her coma, she was talking so fast I thought her mouth was going to catch fire, thought Chip. She thought I was going to be mad at her for losing the Ranger Plane. 

_"I suppose if someone knew you were coming but the prisoner was trying to bite, they might have gone back to the old way so you could talk to someone who wasn't gagged or drugged."_ Marion broke in on his thoughts. 

"Yes. That must be it._"_ Chip agreed slowly, drifting back into the human-speed speech used by most sentient small animals. 

There was something turning over at the back of his mind, telling him there was something wrong somewhere, but he couldn't drag the idea into the light. He would get it eventually, he told himself. This case was over, after all, and with the impostor safely locked up in here he had all the time in the world… 

95

She could have been home by lunchtime. 

The very thought was enough to make her see red. 

She could have been sitting at the kitchen table ready to share everything that had happened to her over a plate of spaghetti and cheese, in the company of her friends. After everything that had happened, after the endless dreams and fantasies of being rescued, Chip had finally walked through the door. And then he had walked out again. 

Chip had gone away.

Everyone she'd ever cared about had gone away.

Standing over her was Officer Margo Haggs. It was all her fault.

Gadget's quicksilver mind was matched by her quicksilver temper. Her muscles tensed. She was still strapped into the straitjacket and the rubber bands securing the rescue ranger to the gurney were still in place. In a moment Haggs would undo them and she would be free to wreak horrible, crunchy revenge. 

Haggs smiled and did not untie her.

Instead she plucked a whisker from her chin and used it to tickle Gadget's nose. Gadget's eyes widened in surprise and then crossed, trying to follow what Haggs was doing. 

"Something wrong, dear?" Haggs murmured as Gadget's nose twitched. "Does your nose itch? Well, why don't you scratch it then? Oh, that's right. You can't. Your arms are strapped into a straitjacket." Haggs carried on tickling for a few seconds. 

When Gadget sneezed it was messy. 

"Ah, does someone need a tissue? Ask me nicely then. Say: Please may I have a tissue to wipe my nose, Officer Haggs, Ma'am?"

In the back of her throat, Gadget moaned with frustration. By the time the sound made it past the ball gag, it sounded weak and nasal, somewhere between a whine and wheeze. 

"What's that? You'll have to speak up a bit. Here, let me take that gag out for you."

Gadget gasped as the ball gag came out of her mouth. With a groan, she blinked away the tears. Her lips were bruised from the struggle she had put up when Haggs had forced the gag into her mouth. She hurt where the tight straps and cuffs had cut into her skin. 

"Now, what do you have to say?" 

Gadget took a deep breath. Something very un-Gadget-like was building up in her chest and was about to come out of her mouth in the form of words she hadn't known she knew. Something inside her heart held the breath. She couldn't think of anything but Haggs. She couldn't think of anything except what had just been done to her. 

Gadget's lip curled… and still the breath she had taken hesitated to leave her chest. 

"What have you to say?" Haggs pressed, applying the whisker again. 

Gadget's head was pounding. She longed to give vent to that rage, but something held her back. If she searched her soul for a hundred years she couldn't say what it was; her father's memory; her battered reputation, which was so far unstained by any act she had actually committed; the thought of giving Haggs the satisfaction of seeing her lose control…

"Please untie me so I can wipe my face." Gadget finally said in a polite, level voice. 

Haggs hit her in the midriff. 

Gadget tried to double up in pain. The straps holding her to a gurney meant she couldn't. 

"Just for that, you can stay there until one of the other orderlies has time to untie you." Haggs turned away and walked to the cell door. "I'll let them know you need untying. After I've had lunch." Haggs locked the cell door. "I'm sure they'll be along as soon as they can find a spare moment. Try not to have an accident in those plastic panties… oh, wait; I didn't have time to put you in any, did I? Never mind. It washes off, I'm told." 

Haggs started to walk away. 

"Why?" 

Haggs stopped. "What was that?" 

"Why? Why did you do this to me? I don't… _think_ you believe that I'm the real Gadget Hackwrench. So why stop me talking to Chip?" 

Haggs scratched her chin and thought about it. Then she shrugged. "Because you wanted to." 

"That's it!?" Gadget exclaimed in disbelief. 

"That and I wanted to teach you a lesson about who's in charge around here." Haggs looked at her steadily. "It's not the Warden."

96

Chip wanted to ask Marion Cedar to take him back to the grim and dingy cell. There he could check his suspicions and conduct a proper interview with the Deputy Warden as a witness. He didn't, for two reasons. 

Firstly, the case of the Counterfeit Rangers was over. The crimes had stopped. Gadget's ringer was in jail, whoever she was. If the rantings of the grey mouse who had tried to kidnap Gadget at hospital were true, then he was the ringleader behind the gang. They had him behind bars, too, and that wrapped up the hijacking of the Ranger Plane and attempted robbery of the City Museum of Culture and Antiquity into the bargain. Anything he could learn after the event would only be of academic, or at most personal, interest. 

Secondly, he had started out especially early because today was a big day for the Rescue Rangers and he didn't want to miss it. 

Gadget was coming home, finally. 

The hospital had at last decided that Gadget Hackwrench was stable and healthy enough to be sent home. Keeping her in hospital was serving no useful purpose; she was making a formidable recovery, worthy of her reputation as a walking miracle. The reporters who insisted on hanging about the hospital in the hope of another kidnap attempt, on the other hand, were clogging up the corridors and making it difficult for the hospital to function. Nor, the hospital had respectfully pointed out, could they really offer the level of security that Gadget would need if someone made another attempt on her life. 

If Chip was lucky he could be back in time to say: "Welcome home". 

It wasn't until he was scowling patiently and waiting for Mac and George, the two sentry dogs, to finish sniffing him that the obvious occurred to Chip. He turned, causing one of the dogs to break off in surprise, and stared back at the imposing monolith of the human prison, the concrete courtyard and the pretend drain that was actually the entrance to Shrankshaw Prison and the dungeon the mouse girl he had visited was being kept in. 

Scent, he mused, wasn't as important between rodents as it was between predators like dogs and cats. Chipmunks seldom went hungry because they couldn't follow the scent trail of a fleeing acorn, so their sense of smell was comparatively weak (though still many times better than a human's). To most small animals, a scent was just another part of who a person was, like the shape of their nose, or that scar on their forehead. It wasn't what you used to recognise someone you knew; more something that told you how they were and what they had been doing lately – as many devoiced husbands could testify, to their chagrin!

Chip was still fighting the tail end of a bad cold, which had kept him from seeing much of Gadget during her recovery, and he had stayed behind the white safety line that was meant to keep him out of arm's reach of the prisoner. That meant that he hadn't been able to get the scent of the girl in the straitjacket himself, but there was no reason scent couldn't identify her. Once given a name, the prisoner would have a history, and that history would make it easier to judge if she was where she belonged. 

Chip was ninety-nine percent sure that the mouse who had impersonated Gadget on so many robberies was Lawhiney, the beautiful but deadly femme-fatal who had challenged both his love for Gadget and his wits as a detective on the island paradise of Hawaii. Months ago Chip had written to the Chief of the Hawaiian tribe-mice and discovered that Lawhiney had escaped from the isolated and well-guarded hut where Chief Hubba Hubba had sworn she would live out her days for her many crimes against his tribe.

No matter how dead the case was, no matter how cold the trail, Chip wanted to know the name of the mouse in the mask. He was ninety percent sure that name wasn't Lawhiney. He had seen the prisoner's natural hair colour where it showed through at the roots and it had been wrong for Lawhiney. That meant either the mouse he had just left behind in that cold, dark place was innocent of most, if not all, the crimes she had been convicted of; or Lawhiney was never involved with this case, that she had nothing to do with the counterfeit rangers and never had.

Chip wondered what the odds were of Gadget Hackwrench being impersonated twice, by two different people, on entirely separate and unconnected occasions. 

They were long odds. 

97

In the four hours since Haggs had left her alone, Gadget had calculated the number of bubble wrap bubbles it would take to cover the Sahara Desert, Death Valley California and many other very, very dry places. The sight of Deputy Warden Marion Cedar was a welcome one. 

"I'm going to remove your straitjacket and restraints. I can get someone else in the cell if you're going to cause trouble but I'd rather have a little talk with you in private." Marion said. 

Gadget looked at her steadily. "It's alright. I won't cause trouble. I've never wanted to cause trouble for anybody." 

"Right then, I'm going to trust you on that." The chipmunk lady replied. 

With those words, the Deputy Warden opened the door to the cell. She entered and, after a pointed look first at Gadget and then at the still open cell door, began undoing the straps that were holding the young mouse to the upright gurney. 

"Mister Maplewood mentioned that he might visit you again when I was saying goodbye to him. I thought that was rather nice of him." Marion began. "I wouldn't set your hopes too high, or tell too many people about it, though. You might make people jealous of the special attention you're getting and he's a very busy chipmunk, after all. Once a person has been convicted of a crime, it really does take a very long time to free them, even with strong evidence behind you."

Gadget turned her big eyes away from the open door and towards the chipmunk. The Deputy Warden seemed to be deliberately avoiding eye contact. 

"Did Chip say that he was going to work on releasing me?" Gadget asked.

The chipmunk paused with something that might have been a half-smile and met Gadget's eye. "_Mister Maplewood_ didn't say that he was, no, but he is still investigating the crimes you were convicted of. I'm sure that if he finds any evidence that suggests you shouldn't be here then he'll pass it on to the appropriate authorities." Marion turned her face back to the buckles and straps. "I'm going to take you up to the Warden's office when you've had a chance to get the feeling back in your arms and legs. She's just come back from a Disciplinary Hearing at the Medical Council." 

Gadget looked surprised. "Disciplinary Hearing? Whose?" 

Marion looked at her in amazement. "Why, Doctor Schadenfreude's, of course! Someone has to be held accountable for what almost happened to you in the electroshock room." 

"But that wasn't his fault!" Gadget protested. "He was hurt trying to get me out of that chair! And he told me that he never wrote that order for me to be taken there. Someone must have faked his signature." 

Marion undid the last of the straps. "Well, I could believe that… but the board felt otherwise. They seemed to feel that some of his other behaviour has been, well, unprofessional: the earmuffs, hanging upside down during his sessions with patients and one or two other things. They said it was bringing the profession into disrepute and that he most likely wrote the order when he was thinking about something else and then forgot about it.

"To be fair, the Doctor always has been very absent-minded and forgetful, but I don't believe he ever did any harm by it. I've always thought he seemed like a bit of an innocent." Marion Cedar looked sad. "They've suspended him, pending a full enquiry."

"Oh. We've got to do something." Gadget said. 

"Well, someone has to. I think you should just mind your P's and Q's and try to stay out of trouble. Turn around and bend over, please."  

Gadget complied without hesitation; she felt none of apprehension she might have suffered if the order had come from Haggs. 

"Whoever put this thing on strapped you in really tight." Marion observed. 

Gadget gasped as the strap that ran between her legs was momentarily tightened and released.  

"Haggs. It was Haggs." Gadget said and winced as circulation returned to the places that had become numb.   

"Really? Well, I'm sure she wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable. She probably just thought she was being thorough." Marion tried to reassure the prisoner, but remained unconvinced herself. 

"No, I mean it was Haggs who forged the order to have me electro-shocked." Gadget clarified. 

"Really. And you witnessed this, I suppose? Turn around again so I can finish getting you out of this thing." 

Gadget turned. The straitjacket, like all straitjackets, opened completely at the back like a hospital gown. She had to hold out her arms so the Deputy Warden could pull the jacket off by the long straps on the sleeves. 

"Of course not." Gadget said. Her arms had been held across her chest for so long that she had been close to getting cramps in them. She shook and stretched them as she talked.  "I worked it out. I've had lots of time to think and I do know a little about detective work. I was going to tell Chip about it but Officer Haggs put a ball gag in my mouth and covered it with a hockey mask. I thought it was so I wouldn't tell on her, but she said she did it just so I know who's boss."

Marion hummed as she considered the machinegun fire speed the mouse was talking at. Not quite as fast as the chipmunk chatter between her and Chip Maplewood earlier but certainly close. "She forged an order to have you electro-shocked to show you who's boss?"

"No! Because I told Doctor Schadenfreude about Officer Haggs beating Bubbles McGee the night I had my hair tied to the cell bars by the other inmates in my cell!" Gadget didn't pause for breath. "He went to see the Warden and when he came back he told me he believed me. Officer Haggs only started coming to the psychiatric wing after that. I don't know if she was looking for revenge or just to make sure it didn't happen again but the way she did it was pretty smart, though; Doctor Schadenfreude is out of Officer Haggs' way and if it had worked I'd be in no condition to tell any tales."

"You heard her beating your friend from five cells away, while you were hanging from the bars and shouting for help?"

"I stopped shouting for help pretty soon. Everyone in the cellblock was just laughing and making smart remarks. Some of them even made suggestions. After a while the big rat in the cell said she'd start taking requests if I didn't… If I wasn't quiet." Gadget turned her large blue eyes on Marion Cedar. They were like a lost child's. "I was awake all night… and I heard a lot of different things."

Marion didn't speak. She had walked the halls of Shrankshaw Prison at night and knew the sounds they made too well. Sometimes she heard them in her sleep. 

"I didn't understand most of what I heard. I didn't even understand some of the suggestions the prisoners made and I don't think I'm sheltered or prudish." Gadget said. "After all, I'm a Rescue Ranger, I've seen lots of bad things; I deal with criminals all the time." 

Marion hesitated while she was folding the straitjacket. She hoped they weren't making a terrible mistake by not transferring this girl to a proper mental institution. 

98

"Come in." Warden Phelps looked up from the paperwork she had been clearing. 

The Deputy Warden opened the door and entered with a smile and a shake of her head. "I've brought the prisoner." She announced. 

"On your own? Not standard procedure, Marion." Warden Phelps reproved her.

"Well, no. I, uh, know. I wanted a chance to talk to her. It wasn't easy to get a word in edgeways." 

"She is quite a motor-mouth-mouse, from what I recall." Chuckled the warden. 

"She's absolutely sure that Margo Haggs fixed that order to have her sent for ECT. She thinks it was because she passed on her concerns about Bubbles McGee." 

The Warden became grim. "I'm not entirely sure she doesn't have a point. Doctor Schadenfreude might be absentminded but sending someone for ECT when our ECT room hasn't been used in years! I don't know how the Medical Council can take it seriously."

"Margo has sailed pretty close to the wind in the past, but there's never been any serious evidence against her. Surely you don't really think she's capable of… criminal activity?" Marion seemed appalled that a fellow prison officer might behave like an inmate.  

"We'd better keep that possibility quiet until we do have some serious evidence." the Warden cautioned her.

"This girl we don't have a proper name for: she still insists on calling herself Gadget Hackwrench."

"I hope you've explained why she should stop doing that?"

"I think her first night gave her a pretty good idea, though she doesn't know how bad it could get." Marion looked depressed. "She asked me what 'being the human' meant on the way up. I couldn't bring myself to tell her."

Warden Phelps sighed heavily. "Send her in. And go and find Bubbles McGee. I'll try and finish what you started."  

Marion left briefly to escort their troublesome inmate into the office and then departed with a polite nod. The Warden pretended to be momentarily preoccupied with her paperwork in order to study the young inmate in front of her; a mouse of slightly more than average height with a figure many females would have died to possess, a head of badly cut deep-red hair which was now beginning to look like a dye job and a pair of clear blue eyes filled with relief and hope. 

Gertrude Phelps had long since ceased to pride herself on being a fine judge of character. She had seen too many clean, polite inmates with good manners and honest faces enter her prison with the blood freshly washed from their paws. Even so, she could detect no real badness in the mouse before her. 

"You wanted to see me, Warden Phelps?" The voice was a little timid. Certainly better suited to a prisoner meeting with a prison warden than the tone she had used the last time she was in this office.

"Yes. How are you feeling?"

A flicker of mistrust ran across the inmate's face. 

"I'm fine, thank you." The words came quickly, a little too quickly for Warden Phelps to believe them, even from a motor-mouth-mouse. 

"Are you sure? That business with the ECT room must have been very upsetting." 

"Oh, it was, but the pain didn't last all that long and I'm used to getting electric shocks from my inventions." 

"Your workshop?" Warden Phelps lifted an eyebrow.

The inmate hesitated with an answer on her lips. She watched the Warden's reaction carefully when she spoke. "Yes. My workshop. In Rescue Ranger HQ, located in the big oak tree in the west corner of Central Park. I haven't been there since the day I was arrested but that's where I work on my inventions, which I use in my work as a Rescue Ranger." 

The two mouse women looked levelly at each other for a heartbeat or two. Then The Warden took a deep breath and took the plunge. "You do realise that no-one in here believes you are Gadget Hackwrench." She tried.

"Yes. Yes, that's very clear to me." 

"You've told me that you are Gadget Hackwrench before. I didn't believe you then." The Warden pointed out.

"No. You didn't."

"I sent you to the Special Ward on the Psychiatric Wing." The Warden added, pointedly. 

The inmate hesitated before answering. "I know."

"Do you want to go back to the Psychiatric Wing?" The Warden looked down while she spoke, her conscience weighing on her.

"No." Gadget almost whispered.

"Speak up, please." 

"No, Warden. I don't want to go back to the Psychiatric Wing." The inmate stared straight ahead with a blank look, as though she was trying not to hear the words coming out of her mouth. For the first time she was behaving like a real convict. The Warden didn't know whether to be glad or sorry. 

"But you're still telling me that you're Gadget Hackwrench, even though I didn't believe you last time." 

"Yes." 

"Why?"

"Because it's true. I don't want to lie about it. Asides from anything else, it will be too difficult to explain why I told a lie when the truth is discovered." 

The Warden picked over her paperwork for a few seconds. "I feel like I'm arguing about an article of faith with someone who's been jailed for a religious belief." She finally observed. "Chip Maplewood was here today; a renowned detective and your friend and leader, according to your version of events. Are you saying he didn't know you?"

"It's not the first time. There was a case on Hawaii where I met a mouse who looked just like me. Even her scent was a pretty close match if you weren't paying attention, or maybe standing really close to her on a hot day. We could have been…" Gadget stopped, caught up on another memory, this time of an insolvable problem that she had long abandoned due to insufficient data.

She was too distracted to notice the Warden's fascinated stare. "Could have been what?"

"Sisters from the same litter." Gadget said faintly. 

"That's very interesting. What was her name?" The Warden's voice was gentle, but there was no hiding the excitement under it.

"Lawhiney. It was a name she adopted when she entered the tribe… she never told them her real name and she refused to tell any of us, no matter who asked. Not many people knew about it – you could check with the Rangers…"

"And tell them that you've tried to prove you are Gadget Hackwrench by revealing details of the only case they've had involving a person who looked like Gadget Hackwrench? No – don't go on. Almost every case handled by the original Rescue Ranger team is well known, or at least not impossible to find out about."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to annoy you." The prisoner said bitterly.

"You haven't. In fact, Doctor Schadenfreude would be delighted. Unfortunately, the good Doctor will be unable to attend any more sessions with you for the foreseeable future. He has some urgent business to attend to and it doesn't permit him to continue his practice here. That was one of the things I wanted to discuss with you." 

"Does the Doctor's urgent business have anything to do with Officer Haggs faking an order for my electroshock treatment?" The redhead's fiery temper showed for the first time since she had entered the office. 

"Behave yourself, 24601, I can have you back in a padded cell in a heartbeat. I won't tolerate any belligerence." 

Gadget subsided. Shoulders back and eyes looking anywhere that wasn't making eye contact, she was acting like a convict again. 

"I was able to talk about your case at length before the Doctor took his leave. He has confirmed that you are sane and that it is therefore possible to be returned to the general population, however he tells me that you do have some remarkably unstable tendencies and that you should therefore be monitored carefully. He recommends that I should take any mental health problems you complain of in the future seriously and that I should review whether you should be returned to the Psychiatric Wing in 28 days… or whenever Officer Haggs returns to duty elsewhere in the prison." The Warden lifted her eyebrows a couple of times to indicate conspiracy. 

Gadget was unimpressed. "If I'm sane, then I am who I say I am and I should be released." 

"Unfortunately, 24601, sane people lie all the time."

Gadget scowled, acknowledging the point. "If you know Officer Haggs is doing wrong, then why let her run free through the prison?"

"I don't know she's doing wrong, I suspect she's doing wrong and it's very easy to be suspicious of someone you don't like. I don't have the right to get rid of someone just because I don't like them." Warden Phelps explained patiently.

The prisoner stared at her with suspicion. After a moment she said: "That's not the real reason." 

"It is the real reason!" The Warden declared hotly, wondering why she was bothering with this wretched girl whose crimes had outraged the entire city. "And I don't see why I should waste my time explaining myself to you!"

"It isn't the only reason, then. I could have been killed in that ECT chair. You got a shock yourself, so did the Doctor, and you suspended the orderlies on the spot." 

The inmate's eyes were penetrating. They reminded the Warden of Chip Maplewood's eyes, which she had looked into just a few short hours ago. Shaking her head, the Warden found herself admitting something that only her trusted deputy, Marion Cedar knew. 

"Margo Haggs has friends throughout the Department of Corrections; better than friends in some places. She's a by-the-book officer who can get results, when she wants to. If I threw her out, she'd be calling in favours left, right and centre. If I suspend Margo Haggs I don't think I could make it stick at a Board of Enquiry and then I'd have to reinstate her. I'd look bad and lose friends along the way. Some of my reforms aren't popular; I need friends to get the budget approvals that I need." 

"I see. So it's all about money." The young mouse rocked back on her heels, considering a plain and ugly truth she hadn't expected to uncover.

"I need the money to improve life for the inmates here! Some of them genuinely want to lead good lives. Can you understand that? Wanting to lead an ordinary life and never being allowed to? Can you even imagine it? Being locked away in a place like this, perhaps for your whole life, because you haven't been given the chances other people were when they were growing up? Or because you've acted foolishly once in your life and never been allowed to forget it?" 

The Warden's passion surprised Gadget. It may have surprised the Warden, too. 

"I won't have to imagine it, will I?" The prisoner said sadly. "I'm going to be here to experience it first hand!"

"You want to reform, then?" The Warden asked. 

"I don't need to reform. I'm not a criminal." Gadget pouted. 

"OH, FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, GIRL! You've told it to the person who arrested you, the jury, the judge and you've told it to me when you first got here and to anyone else who will listen!" The Warden slammed her open hands against the desktop. "Rightly or wrongly you are here until the powers that be say otherwise, so stop WHINING about it!" 

Gadget flinched like a frightened child in front of the head-teacher. When she saw the Warden's glare, it took all Gadget's courage to speak up. "Warden, I can see you're a good person but the bottom line is that you're willing to let Haggs do whatever she wants, so long as she's discrete, simply because you want money – oh, I don't say you want it for yourself, you'd probably turn it down if someone offered it to you personally. You want it for the prisoners, me included, but you are still letting someone do something bad for money." 

"How dare you!" the Warden hissed. She would have gone on but a sharp rap on the door stopped her. "Come!" she ordered. 

Marion Cedar opened the door and escorted Bubbles McGee into the office. The Deputy Warden didn't notice the tension between the two mice but the brunette inmate seemed to shrink as her eyes flickered between the Warden and Gadget Hackwrench. 

"I've brought Bubbles McGee to see you, Warden, as you requested." Marion said formally. 

"Thank you, Marion. McGee, you're an old hand at life behind bars. You've been here before and you know how things work. I understand you already know this young lady. In fact, I'm told that you've been asking after her health?"

"Ma'am?" Bubbles quailed.

"You've been bribing one of the trustees to make sure the food she gets hasn't been tampered with. I know all about it. And you, 24601, you might have taken a long time over it, but you put yourself in harm's way to make sure McGee wasn't being abused."

The two prisoners glanced at each other. 

"Officer Haggs felt that the last thing a new inmate needed was to be locked up with an old hand who would teach her bad habits. Have either of you any thoughts on that?" 

"No Ma'am." Bubbles replied without hesitation. 

Gadget opened her mouth and shut it again when Bubbles stepped on her tail. Across the table, something that might have been a smile flickered across the Warden's face. 

"That's a start, at least." The Warden said. "I'm inclined to think it's high time someone taught you something about the real world, 24601, even if it is a bad habit."

Gadget's jaw dropped indignantly. 

"24601. We really can't keep on calling you that; not after nearly a month here. What do you call her, McGee?"

"Red, Ma'am. I call her Red, cause of her hair. So do the other girls." Bubbles said. 

"Tell the other Officers, Marion, and add 'Red' to 24601's file as an alias. Try to stay out of trouble, both of you. That's all." The Warden put on a pair of reading glasses and returned to her paperwork, as though they had already left. 


	15. Home, Home on the Range

**_Disclaimer_**

_In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone…  except a certain kind of lawyer._

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Home, home on the Range…**

99

"Basil?" The Guide asked. 

"Yes, that's my name… Basil of Baker Street." The reply came in an English accent with a light, friendly tone. The speaker was a slender mouse with mid-brown fur, dressed in an elegant, if somewhat old fashioned, formal suit. Even caught in the motion of bending to take a book from one of the lower shelves, he was taller than Lawhiney's Guide. 

"I was told to seek you out and ask your advice." The Guide explained himself, after sizing Basil up. 

Basil looked back at the strange figure in front of him. He could not see the Guide's face, which was shadowed by the hood of the robes, with the exception of the tip of the Guide's nose, which was a healthy pink. In contrast to Basil, the short, stocky "body" of Lawhiney's Guide seemed even shorter than it really was, simply by standing near the tall mouse. It didn't help, of course, that the Guide was wearing a hooded robe several sizes too large which made him look a little like a school-boy on the first day of school, whose mother swore he would grow into the new uniform. The robes were new, which meant there was little that could be deduced from them except that, judging by the poor fit, they had been issued in a great hurry. 

"How's our newest probationary guide doing?" Basil smiled. 

"He's your newest probationary ex-guide." Lawhiney's Guide answered sullenly. The hood jerked back, then tilted slightly to one side. "How did you know I was a probationer? Let alone a new one?" 

"I often act as a consultant for those Guides whose wards have found themselves close to the wrong side of the law. I have some experience in that area." 

"The area on the wrong side of the law?" 

"The area of being a consultant, my dear fellow." Basil retorted, dryly. The mystery Guide's accent was American – New York, if Basil was any judge of accents, which he was.  "Now, what's the situation? I can't advise you strongly enough not to hold anything back. If you do, there's nothing of any worth I can tell you." 

The Guide hesitated and then plunged into the story: "I have to say – I probably wasn't ready for this, they pulled me out of training, in fact, because it was an emergency."

"An emergency, you say?"

"Yes, the job came through at very short notice." The Guide said evenly. There was a slight pause in the conversation. 

"Are you expecting me to make a joke about your height?" Basil enquired, politely.

"No, just to laugh." 

"At which point, you would…?" 

"Bop you on the nose, quite possibly." 

"They frown on that sort of thing up here, you know." 

"Yes, but I don't care. Let them find someone else for this if they want to. It would probably be for the best if she had someone more experienced anyway. Besides… it's–" the Guide took a deep, shaky breath "–too painful to watch."

Basil put the book down and hurried to fetch his guest a chair. 

A moment later the Guide was sitting, his shoulder's bowed as he spoke. "It's heartbreaking, it really is. I've seen her make such incredible strides. She's learned to care about someone other than herself. She feels love for the first time. Somebody sacrifice himself for her and she's actually grateful, for pity's sake. She's this close to being really truly sorry for everything she's done… But she's not going to make it."

"Bare up. We all have moments of doubt and hopelessness, old man. We just have to get through them as best we can, but there's always something better on the other side. That we can be sure of."

"Can we be sure of it, Basil?"

"Better than misery and despair? I think so. Now, why do you say that she's not going to make it?"

"Because of this." The Guide passed a roll of paper with ornate writing to Basil. 

Basil took the opportunity to study the hand that passed him the paper as well as the paper itself. The hand was male, though he had already deduced that much from the voice. The claws had been trimmed short and several of the knuckles were flattened, which indicated some experience of "bopping" others on the nose, and it was attached to a sturdy wrist. 

Hmm. Interesting. Basil thought. 

"Horoscope, ay? From Celestial Forecasting I see. Well, at least they generally do a better job than those clowns on the material plane. Let's see…" Basil read it at a glance, his frown fading to be replaced with a dismayed look. "A 20% chance of repentance should give way to strong temptation by the middle of next week. The outlook for the rest of that week is overcast by foreboding and mortal peril, accompanied by a violent and stormy encounter. " Basil stared at the paper for another moment, then shook his head and glared at it. "Yes, well, I quite see your point, old chap." 

"It's not the horoscope, so much. It doesn't tell me anything I didn't already know really. I only asked for it so that I knew how much time I had to work with." 

"Not much, by the look of it." 

"She won't turn herself around in that time. Not in two weeks."

"You said she was close to repenting?" 

"But not to changing her ways. She'll repent, she'll be sorry, and yet she'll carry right on doing all the things she's done before." 

"Bad habits are hard to break, but with persistence…"

"It's not habit, it's because I showed her a vision of a child as yet unborn…" 

_There was a choking sound, followed by a splutter. Then a baby's cries filled the room. _

_The real Lawhiney, or at least the Lawhiney who was standing next to the guide she had come in with and who hoped she was the real Lawhiney, breathed a sigh of relief. Her hands were shaking and her eyes were wide. She was going to be a mother. And a prisoner. _

_Well, it was better than hellfire. _

_"What shall I call you?" The new mother asked her baby. _

_"Call him? You won't call him at all. You don't think they would allow someone like you to keep a baby, do you? In a place like this? No, the orphanage will name him."_

_"Orphanage? You can't. He hasn't even opened his eyes yet. If you take him away now he'll never see me!" _

_"You know more than half of the kids that come out of those places end up as the scum we lock up in here." _

_"Please, let me spend a little time with him." Lawhiney begged as the baby was prised out of her arms. She could have held on tighter, but like any mother she preferred to let her child go rather than see it harmed be holding on too tight. _

_"Why should I?" The cold voiced guard asked. _

_"Because, because…" _

_"Too late." The guard replied. _

_"Baby!" Lawhiney yelled from her bed as the guard carried the child away._

Basil sighed as the vision faded. "Heartbreaking, of course, but sometimes that's the sort of thing it takes to change a person's heart." 

"I knew the idea of motherhood would change the way she looked at the world. It taught her to care for someone beside herself. I thought that was a good thing at the time." The Guide sighed heavily. "But however she's going to feel when the vision comes to fulfilment and it's her turn to lay in that bed, right now she thinks of that baby as nothing more than a thing that she wants and that someone else is trying to take away from her. Take it from me, there's a big difference between that and being a parent!"

"Hmm." Basil looked sideways at the Guide. "What else did you show her?"

The Guide bowed his head, solemnly…

_The guide stepped forward and pointed to another plaque. _

_"Isaac Burntpaw, loving husband. Died in a forest fire with Donnie and Melissa, his two beautiful children."_

_"I don't know any of these people." Lawhiney said. _

_"They will live, if you do not." The voice was sombre. It stopped Lawhiney like a slap in the face. _

_"What? What are you trying to tell me here? The plaques tell you how these people died. Floods and fires. I didn't kill them." _

_"If you live, they will not." _

_"What? I could start a forest fire, maybe, but a flood? What to I look like, some kind of cartoon super-villain? Heck, I'd save them if I could." But her face fell on the last word as understanding dawned. "Wait, wait a second. I get it. You're saying that the Rangers would have saved, I mean, will save these people if I choose to die instead of go back to living, right?"_

_The guide nodded. _

_"Because Gadget won't quit?" _

_The guide hesitated, seeming to consider his answer before he nodded. _

_"That's her decision, not mine! I can't be blamed for that! No one here died because of me!"_

_The guide pointed to a third plaque. It read: "In remembrance of Dale Oakmont. Rescue Ranger and truest friend anyone could have. Murdered by a cheap fraud and impostor."_

"Dale Oakmont… Why do I know that name?" Basil frowned. "It rings a bell. Oh wait, I think I've come across him before. Rescue Rangers, yes? Confused little chap. Well, with any luck, he'll be able to figure things out without our help."

"If Lawhiney gives him a chance." The Guide said bitterly. 

"Oh, wait. I might have him confused with his friend, Chip Maplewood. Wants to be a detective, I hear. I used to be a detective myself, you know." Basil gave The Guide a smile of cheerful reminiscence.

"I hear you used to be a Guide, as well. You might consider going back to it so that you can get down there and give him a few pointers." The Guide suggested.

"Not allowed, unfortunately. Not unless he has a real need to see me because his soul is in danger. Someone suggested that I put in for muse status and try my hand at inspiring him, but then I'd have to give up-" Basil gestured expansively at his cluttered office "-all this." 

The Guide's hood tilted to one side and Basil had the feeling that someone doubted his sincerity. "What else was in the vision of the future you showed her?" 

With a shrug, the Guide showed him. 

_Capone shrugged. Over his shoulder he yelled: "Hey, cockroach, bring in that champagne I told you to put on ice. I want to celebrate my big win." _

_A moment later a small mouse boy, no more than an inch and half high, pushed in a bottle cap packed with ice that was almost as big as he was. An uncut mane of blonde hair spilled down his back. He was wearing shorts made out of a brown paper, like humans used for wrapping parcels, and nothing else. They rustled audibly over the scraping of the wide, ice packed bottle top as it scraped against the floor.  _

_Lawhiney moved to where she could look into the boy's eyes. They were clear and blue. His face reminded her of someone. Who? Shaka? Brandon? That mouse in the last small town they had fleeced? There were half a dozen possibilities but, whoever the father was, the boy got his colouring from her; that was for sure. _

_His back was straining with the effort of moving his burden. Despite the effort, the child smiled with a guileless desire to please. Lawhiney looked into his eyes and for the first time in her life, she fell in love. It was a mother's love._

_"That your boy, Capone?" The squirrel asked._

_"Yeah, all bought and paid for. Legal too!" _

_"Slavery's legal now?" asked the lizard, who was sitting closest to Lawhiney._

_"Nah, but adoption is. You'd be amazed who they let adopt these days." Capone laughed. "Hey, cockroach, ashtray's full. Bring us a new one." _

_"Yes, Pa." _

_BONK! Capone's fist resounded against the boy's skull. The gangster hadn't held back his strength either. _

_"I told you never to call me that, damn you! I'm not your Pa! No one knows who your Pa is, most likely not even your Ma, wherever she is." _

"Oh dear. No matter how much time goes by, the nature of those who abuse others never changes." Basil sighed. "How did your ward take it?"

"Badly, or well, depending on what you mean. She was angry. Protective, as a mother should be. That's good isn't it?"

Basil cocked an eyebrow at the Guide. "Go on, you didn't stop there, did you?" 

The Guide scuffed his feet. "Well, no. I didn't. I thought it was working, so I just carried on…" 

Basil sighed. "You know, when you paint someone a picture and you notice that a little more red seems to improve it, you don't throw the entire tin of paint at the canvass. Go on, show me the worst."

Dejectedly, the Guide waved his hand and the vision appeared…

_It was nighttime and they were standing on the roof of a human building. An air conditioning vent stood less than a metre away from them and as they watched the grate opened. _

_Roach dropped a line from the vent and slid down it with practiced ease. Three more rodents, a squirrel and two rats, joined him. All were wearing backpacks. _

_"That was easy." Laughed one._

_"Yeah, except for that extra alarm system. I thought every alarm in the place would start ringing." _

_"It didn't look like it had been put in by a human, that was for sure." _

_"It wasn't, you crooks!" Yelled a voice from the edge of the roof. _

_Blazing lights illuminated the robbers, casting long, stark shadows. Lawhiney had time to realise that neither her guide nor herself had shadows before the robbers started running. _

_"Say the word boss!" said a familiar bat that was carrying a portable halogen spotlight. It was Foxy; the first time Lawhiney had seen her, the bat had been carrying off her son. Now she hated the bat with a renewed passion. _

_"The word!" shouted a voice Lawhiney recognized all too well. It was Gadget Hackwrench. Her hair was greying and her figure had sagged, but she had aged gracefully. _

_A dozen uniformed rodents poured over the roof. Working in threes they brought down Roach's three companions easily. _

_Roach ran; dodging left and right around two mice that thought they could football tackle him. _

_The Rangers, whatever they were now calling themselves, had stationed themselves against the edge of the roof where the robbers had secured their line to the ground. He ran in that direction anyway, knowing there was no other way down from the roof._

_A huge rat blocked Roach's way but he snapped out the weapon he had used on Joe and suddenly the ranger was curled up into a ball of pain. Roach used the fallen figure as a springboard to leap up to the wall that ran around the roof. _

_"Stop!" Gadget yelled._

_Roach grabbed the line and began to slide down it, only to find his feet gripping air after a few inches. Sickeningly, he felt his grip begin to fail. _

_"We cut your line! There's no way down!" Gadget told him, unnecessarily. Looking over her shoulder, straight through the horrified Lawhiney and her impassive guide, Gadget saw that she was the only unoccupied Ranger on the roof. Even Foxglove was helping subdue the robber-squirrel. _

_"Give me your hand." She told Roach._

_Roach looked up at her in disbelief. "I can't reach." He said._

_"Yes you can! Try using your feet on the wall."_

_Roach managed to lift himself a little way. When he was sure, he reached out a hand and grasped Gadget's. At the very moment she tightened her grip, his hold on the line that had been cut failed. _

_Roach gasped._

_Gadget screamed. Her body was flattened against the brickwork of the roof's wall. She tried to improve her grip with her other hand, but it was gloved and wouldn't close properly. Roach's free hand clawed at her sleeve, trying to hang on, but the days of Gadget wearing overalls were a distant memory. The blue uniform shirt she was wearing tore, revealing an arm that was laced with scars. _

_Roach stared at the scars in surprise and puzzlement. He looked questioningly at her, then her grip on his hand weakened and he disappeared into the darkness below._

_"I'm sorry." Sobbed Gadget. She turned over and lay on her back, the sounds of law and order all around her, knowing that there was no way anyone could have survived a fall like that._

Basil pursed his lips and looked at the Guide disapprovingly. "Is that it?" he enquired.

"Yes." 

"Right, having seen that, let me tell you what kind of problem you're having with her. She's using all her old tricks and methods to try and safeguard the future of her unborn child, even though she knows ever step is carrying her further into darkness. She cares nothing for the danger she places her soul in, because she believes she acts for the benefit of her son." Basil pulled out a pipe and began filling it with tobacco.

The Guide stared at him. "That's incredible." 

"That I was able to deduce your problem from what you've shown me? 'Tosh, any experienced Guide would have told you to stop with the vision of her child being taken away. You never should have given into her demand to see what became of the baby." 

"No, I mean the pipe. I thought they frowned on that sort of thing as well, up here. I mean, is it allowed?"

"Practically everything is allowed up here… although, of course, this isn't harmful, like the stuff I used to smoke." Basil replied. "Doctor Dawson was always complaining about my tobacco habit. I managed to give up several times, with his help, but I always gave into the craving in the end, usually when I was bored or had some problem that required me to think carefully for a long time. I'm afraid what you've brought me is quite a three pipe problem." 

"You don't say?" 

The Guide leaned forward in fascination. As he did so, Basil quickly brought the flame up to the Guide's face, throwing light the Guide's shadowed face. The Guide quickly pulled away and hid his face in the folds of his hood, but it had been enough for the keen-eyed Basil to see what he needed. 

"Oh, excuse me." Basil said as he lit the pipe. 

The Guide sat in sullen silent as the ex-detective puffed away. 

"I like to know just who and what I'm dealing with." The tall mouse tried to explain himself. "And despite my explicit instructions to leave nothing out, you omitted the one single fact of greatest importance. I really can't imagine why I don't throw you out on your ear for playing games with me." 

If it was meant to cow the Guide into submission then Basil's tone was a little too defensive. The Guide rocked back on his heels, twitching under his robes. 

"How about I throw **you** out on **your** ear for playing games?" The Guide demanded. "Did you think I didn't ask around before I came here? You think I didn't find out just who had me pulled out of training six months early to work this case? It was your letter of recommendation that persuaded the Academy Director to release me for active duty." 

Basil very slowly reclined in his armchair and turned a languid pair of eyes on the Guide. "Asked around?" He gave a short laugh. "Letter of recommendation?" he laughed again. "Don't let the door slam on your tail on the way out."

"The Oversight Committee said you'd want to hear about the guy the other side sent up to be my opposing counsel but, since you're not interested, I'll just go."

"What about your opposing counsel?"

"They said he was a friend of yours. Goes by the name of… Ratigan." 

"Ratigan. I wish I could say I had never heard of him." Basil said with a ghost of a smile. "No. Not a friend. Someone I have fought so long that he has come to know me better than I would like... and he I. Can you call such a person a friend?" Basil's eyes were hooded, his face haunted.

"Then perhaps this is good news. He hasn't shown up." The Guide said brightly. "By rights, he should have been there from the moment Lawhiney's eyes opened." 

"What? Good news! The most insidious fiend ever to plague all mouse-kind has a license to walk the earth and we don't know where he is? Is that what you call that good news?" Basil stood up in a bitter temper and began to pace around the room. "You might not call it that if you knew what he doing while you do his job for him and provide Miss Lawhiney with more motive than she needs for mayhem, malice and murder!" 

"They warned me you could be like this when you got excited." The Guide said darkly. 

"Would that I had someone to warn me about you!" Basil retorted insultingly. 

"Okay, you've made your point. I'll ask them to query the Other Side about where their man, Ratigan, has gotten. I sure wouldn't want to be in his shoes, if he's playing hooky." 

"Tell the Other Side? What on Earth for? You've already said that you're having a hard enough time reforming Miss Lawhiney as it is. I know Ratigan, you wouldn't stand a chance against him." Basil tapped out the pipe as though it had left a bitter taste in his mouth. He left the pipe in the ashtray and climbed a small set of library steps next to a bookcase filled with record books. 

"Don't we have to give the Other Side equal time?" The Guide asked.

"Of course we do!" Basil said, tucking a book under his arm. "That's in the treaty, but there's nothing that says we have to tell them when their people are slacking. They certainly don't tell us." He added a second book to the first. "As to the other matter… You've been frustrated by her determination to put her old talents to 'good' use by protecting her child."

"To put it mildly."

"Not unsurprisingly. When the only tool you have is a hammer, you're going to treat every problem you run across like a nail." Basil observed. By now he had a small stack of books under his arm. "But she is in an excellent position to see some other tools demonstrated. Friendship. Loyalty. Generosity. Kindness. Courage – she's already familiar with daring which is nearly the same thing, so that one should come easily to her. Love… she might have toyed with other people affections but has she ever really had a good close look at what it _can_ be?" 

"I doubt it." The Guide said sadly. 

"It might also help if you put that vision in context for her. Those things aren't carved in stone, you know."

"I already told her that."

"Those visions only show what would happen if the client woke up with no knowledge of the future at all. Once they've seen the future and start basing their decisions on their new knowledge, everything changes… the further into the future the event was, the bigger difference she's made." Basil descended the steps carefully.

"The thing is, she's making the same choices all over again. Only before she made them to save her own skin, now she's making them to protect her child. That's what makes it so darn painful to watch." 

"Hmm. Well, that is a problem." He placed the books on the floor. "Step up. I think I have a couple of safety pins around here somewhere. With any luck I should be able to turn up the hem of that robe for you." 

"Don't bother!" The Guide shook his head and waved his arms despairingly. "I'm just going withdraw from the whole thing and let someone who knows what their doing take over!" Before Basil could stop him, the Guide had snatched up a telephone from a marble desk where Basil had been working earlier and begun dialling. 

"Quit? You can't do that! You're her Guardian Angel! Her Caseworker! Her Guide! Not to mention her-" 

"I know what I am." The Guide said, cutting Basil off with a decisive gesture. "I'm a failure. I can't help her, I can't change her and I just can't stand around and watch what's going to happen to her. The only thing I can do is leave, so that's what I'm going to do – Again!"

Basil listened to the rant with his hands on his hips, silent and unimpressed. "See here, old boy, you've been assigned to her until she's strong enough to resist temptation on her own, or until the day she dies and you can't just turn up on the doorstep bleating excuses before one of those two things happen."

"I'm not so sure. Maybe the next guy will have more luck with her." 

"If you put in to be replaced, the Other Side will have to replace their man too. It's in the rules – Unfair advantage to whoever has greater experience with the client otherwise. Even with bad luck, you can hardly do worse than someone who hasn't shown up." 

The Guide stopped. He had spent so much time considering his own failings as a Guide he hadn't considered the Other Side of the equation. "Say, there maybe something in that… Do you really think that's the way to play it?"

"What have you got to lose?" Basil smiled.

"Lawhiney's soul." 

100

"So, let me get this straight: Chip is visiting the prisoner who was convicted of impersonating me?" Lawhiney's Gadget impression could be heard faintly on the other side of the door.

"That's right, Gadget-luv." The big mouse's voice sounded winded, as though he had just run a marathon. "I expect he's turning the thumbscrews right now. Metaphorically speaking, of course." Monty's mouth picked out the shape of the unfamiliar word carefully. 

There was a pause in the conversation. Then Dale piped up: "Uh, Monty… Meta-for-rack-lay means that Chip wouldn't really use thumbscrews, right?" 

"Course it does, Dale."

"Oh. Only I was going to say that I don't think his Mom ever gave them back after that time when we were eight…"

"Hey mate, I thought I was supposed to be the one with all the stories no-one wanted to hear?" Monty put in hastily.

"Monty, after four weeks in hospital I would love to hear every last story you can remember." Somebody who sounded like a cheerful Gadget Hackwrench was now right outside the Ranger's front door. 

"Too-Rah! Come to think of it, that might be just what you need to get back your memory, Gadget-luv!" 

"Yeah, and maybe you won't need those sleeping pills the Doc gave you either!" Dale suggested as he opened the door. 

Monty carried Lawhiney's wheelchair in at waist-height, just as he had carried it up the stairs that ran up the outside of the tree – with Lawhiney still in the chair! 

She looked around as Monty gently put her down. The last time she had been in this room she had been there to steal the Ranger Plane for the ill-fated robbery on the museum. The wheelchair was on loan from the hospital and wasn't the powered kind. With one arm still lightly bandaged and strapped across her chest, Lawhiney was more or less unable to move under her own power.

"**Surprise!**"

It was enough to nearly give her a heart attack. Lawhiney shrank back from the hoard of strangers that rose up before her with shining teeth. Her eyes darted madly with fear as she tried to find a way out. 

Where were Monty and Dale? Why weren't they defending her? They still thought she was the real Gadget, didn't they? Or was this some elaborate revenge they had prepared for her?

Party streamers brushed her face like spider's webs. From somewhere a camera flashed and spots of light danced in her eyes. The loud pop could have come from anywhere and was probably a bottle of champagne being opened, but Lawhiney jumped as though she had been shot. 

"Better take a couple of deep breaths, kiddo. Saint Peter ain't expecting to see you again quite this soon." The Guide smiled rakishly at her from beside a bowl of pink dip. Although Lawhiney suspected that it was impossible for him to touch anything, he was twirling a mouth-sized toothpick with a piece of cheese on it. It looked just like the ones on the food table next to him. 

"When Dale told us you were coming home today we couldn't resist throwing you a party!" A teenage voice squealed. 

"Tammy! How nice to see you again!" she smiled and reached out her good arm for a hug, or half a hug at any rate. She remembered the redheaded squirrel youngster from the visions of the future the Guide had shown her. Looks like Heaven was actually helping for change, instead of just looking over her shoulder and criticizing.

"Even though strictly speaking, you've never met her before." The Guide whispered from over her shoulder.

Lawhiney looked back at him automatically but managed to restrain herself before she answered him. 

"You know, this is supposed to be Gadget's welcome home party. If you tell them the truth now, it still could be. Gadget's friends are good people and with number of good people here you can be sure that some of them will be sympathetic." The Guide's expression was both kind and sad. It stirred something buried deep at the back of Lawhiney's mind… unfortunately it wasn't her conscience. 

"Why Tammy, I can't even remember the last time I saw you. Have you grown? You seem shorter – I mean taller." Lawhiney gushed as she hugged.

"Uh, well I haven't seen you for a couple of months, I guess. I mean I used to be over every chance I got but what with school and us living way over on the edge of Chinatown, and all." Tammy basked in the warmth of appreciation.

"She's seems to get a little taller every day, to my eyes." A matronly squirrel said a little sadly. 

"Is that your mother hiding at the back of the room?" Lawhiney asked. She pretended to squint. 

"Mom's always complaining that I'm growing up too fast." Tammy laughed.

"Mine was the same." Lawhiney slipped. 

"Oops!" The Guide couldn't help wincing at the mistake.

Lawhiney caught on fast. She was already working on an explanation as Tammy pulled away with a puzzled expression, had one ready before Monty had even said: "Ay? What's that Gadget-luv?"

"I mean my father used to say the exact same thing to me. My mother died when I was very young. But that meant he had to be both mother and father to me, so it comes to much the same thing, don't you think?" You didn't pretend to be someone you weren't for months without learning to think fast on your feet.

Everyone laughed. This was the babbling Gadget Hackwrench that they all knew and loved. She had been through a terrifying adventure and it had taken its toll on her, but now she was home. It was time for her to shrug her shoulders at the bad things and smile at the good, to learn what she could from all that had happened and wrap it up with a neat little joke. Only one thing was missing.

The door burst open.

"Is she here?" Chip asked. "Is she back yet?" Then, looking around at the laughing partygoers and realising that he was definitely too late, Chip tried to make a joke of it. "Is Gadget Hackwrench in the house? I have an appliance here that's just not working. It was sold to me by a door-to-door salesman." 

The guests laughed warmly at Chip's antics. 

The note of genuine uncertainty in his voice when he asked if Gadget Hackwrench was in the house disturbed him. She was sitting in plain sight, right in the middle of the room.

"Chip!" Gadget grinned at him. It was an odd kind of grin for Gadget, almost smug. Chip only barely had time to register it before she blinked and he was staring into an innocent, force-four Gadget beaming smile.

"Hi ya, Gadget. How's my favourite genius doing?" 

"Fine, thanks Chip. How's my favourite detective?" 

Detective. Detective. She definitely hadn't called him defective; that was just his imagination. Chip's eyes flickered from one guest to another to check for a bat he could confirm this with later. Foxglove wasn't there. Neither was anyone else he could depend on. The mice all had better ears than him, but not in the league of the Bats and the other Night-kin. 

Whatever anyone said about being better integrated than human society ever dreamed of being, there was a difference between getting evidence from a bat and from a mouse. A bat's word on what they had heard would be taken in a court of law. Their word on what they had _seen_ would be questioned even when their night vision was better than most mammals, but no one doubted a bat had heard correctly.

Dale smiled broadly and presented "Gadget" with something flat that was wrapped in gaudy paper.

"Presents? I get presents? I mean… Golly, you shouldn't have gone to the trouble, folks. I'm not worth it." Lawhiney reached for gift like an eager child. 

Monty's moustache twitched as he remembered Gadget as a small girl. He watched fondly as she tore open the wrapping paper. All children went through a phase where they frustrated their parents by playing with the wrapping paper rather than the toy inside it. Gadget had made paper aeroplanes out of hers; paper aeroplanes that had stayed up in the air for a very long time.

"L plates? You got me Learner driver plates?" Gadget looked at Dale with rather more ire than was normal for her. "You think that's funny?"

"They're for your wheelchair." Dale explained, giggling.

"Gadget" opened her mouth. She clearly intended to tear strips of Dale for playing a prank on her but before the angry words crossed her lips she looked sideways at the guests and changed her mind. "For the wheelchair?" she asked. "Well, in that case, I guess it's funny. For a moment there I was angry because I thought you meant I should put it on the Ranger Plane because I crashed."

"Aw shucks, everyone knows you're the best animal pilot in the city." Dale said in an off hand way.

"State." Chip automatically corrected.

"Country." Dale upped the ante. 

"Hemisphere." Chip showed off his vocabulary. 

"World." Dale frowned. "That's bigger than a Hemisphere, right Monty?" 

"Universe." Chip nailed it. 

"Darn right I am!" Gadget accepted the praise unflinchingly. "Just got the Ranger Plane over-loaded, that's all. I tried to tell the crooks but they were just too greedy. Where's my next present?"

"I thought you crashed the Ranger Plane to stop them getting away with the jewels?" Tammy's mother asked.

Lawhiney froze in the act of unwrapping a box.  "Did I say that? Did I say that? I don't remember telling anyone that." She was staring into space, asking thin air. 

"I think the newspapers made that up." Chip helped her. 

"Really?" Lawhiney brightened. "Hey, I wouldn't mind seeing some of them. Should fill up a lot of space in the scrapbook, huh?" 

"Trust me, you don't want to see what they had to say about you." Chip said sadly. 

"Blooming outrage if you ask me." Monty grumbled. 

"Oh, it's shocking." Tammy's mother agreed.

"Not one of them has apologized." He put in. 

"It's a real scandal." Tammy's mother agreed. 

There was a slight pause as the big mouse and the squirrel looked at each other speculatively. 

"How is Mister Hazelwood?" Monty asked in a carefully neutral tone. 

"Oh, still missing presumed dead." Tammy's mother replied, her voice surprisingly cheerful. "It's been five years now but you know how it is. The kids keep you too busy to notice the time go by. Have you any?" 

"Children? Well, I've come close a couple of times but… well, when you spend most of your life travelling the world and getting into scrapes every five minutes you never really get the chance to form those kind of ties. My Mum and Dad managed it but they only get together once in a blue moon. They do most of their romancing by letter!" 

Mrs Hazelwood and Monty shared a chuckle together and the matronly squirrel offered Monty a piece of acorn on a stick. 

Lawhiney blinked rapidly. Was it her imagination, or was romance blossoming? She shook her head in disbelief. "Uh, I think I really would like to see what the papers printed while I was in hospital… if only to catch up on what's been happening while I was out of it." She frowned. 

The gift box she had just opened contained a shiny brass oilcan. Lawhiney wondered whether all the gifts were going to be related to Gadget's work. 

"It's WD-40. Your favourite." A tall blond mouse with tan fur and a lab coat reassured her.

"Dale have you been telling people that Gadget drinks oil again?" Chip asked coldly.

"No! Well, maybe…" Dale looked shifty and edged out of bonking range of Chip.

Lawhiney stared at them in disbelief. Suddenly she was aware of everyone looking at her, as if they were expecting her to test the oil and announce its vintage. Surely the real Gadget didn't actually drink oil! She couldn't possibly! 

But they were all staring at her and she had to do something… 

Depressing the oilcan's plunger, she squeezed a drop of lubricant onto her finger. Awkwardly she raised the finger to her face and sniffed. "Good year." She smiled nervously.

Everyone laughed. 

The door burst open for a second time.  

A young brown furred weasel staggered into the room. His arm was in a badly tied sling that was stained with blood. 

"It just collapsed." He gasped. "We were converting an old water tower into living space out on the college sports field. It must have had damp rot or something and the extra weight from all the stuff we moved in was too much for it. The workers – trapped!"

The rangers looked at each other. 

"We know where you mean." Chip said. "We go there to watch baseball occasionally. Have you any idea how many are trapped?"

"At least a dozen. It happened during lunch or it would have been more." The weasel sank down into a chair provided by a thoughtful party guest. 

"If we ever needed the Ranger Plane!" Chip scowled. 

"We can take the Ranger Wing." Dale suggested.

"It can't carry as many people. It'll have to do, seeing as the Skate's been missing for two weeks. Go get the lifting gear ready. Okay, everybody, try not to tire Gadget out too much while we're gone." Chip waved as he followed Dale out of the room.

"Don't worry, Chip! We're going to give Gadget a make-over!" 

Monty shook his head. "Now Tammy love, Gadget might not want a make-over…"

"Are you kidding?" Lawhiney interrupted. "I'd love one!" 

Monty did a double take. "Uh, right you are luv. Here lad." He said and gave the weasel an arm to lean on. "Let me help you up to the Ranger wing… You can show us the way." 

Everyone watched the Ranger's leave the party with the stricken weasel. The party atmosphere had been wounded but wasn't quite dead yet. Tammy and her mother twittered around several bags of make up and hair products.

The Guide looked at her sternly. "Not funny, Lawhiney. You might have wriggled out of that one but there are a hundred details about Gadget's life that you don't know. You can fool strangers and you can fool friends for five minutes at a time, so long as you've got Doctors and Nurses to keep them at arms length, but there's no way you can keep this up. Confessing to your sins and asking for forgiveness is one thing – getting caught red handed and expecting an easy ride is another."

Lawhiney stared at the Guide with her ears down. 

A consoling hand pressed against her shoulder. "I'm sure they'll be back safe and sound." The tall blond mouse in the lab coat told her. 

"Thank you." Lawhiney whispered, unable to explain that she was afraid because she knew the Guide was right. Time was running out.

101

Bubbles and Gadget left the warden's office feeling relieved and embarrassed. For her part, Bubbles felt like a naughty school pupil who had been called to the School Principal's office for a warning and was lucky to escape with only her ears burning. Gadget was nursing a wounded ego. She was a Rescue Ranger and she had travelled around the world twice, once with her father and once with the Rangers. She had seen things most people were lucky enough to avoid seeing in their whole lives, no matter how fast her father, or Monty, put their hands over her eyes. 

A prison guard, a hedgehog with a Scottish accent, was escorting them to the laundry, where Bubbles worked. As the guard stopped to unlock a barred door that had been made from the door of a human-made animal cage, Bubbles spoke out of the side of her mouth. "Well, that was… unexpected. Who would'a thought it? The Warden acts like her nose is buried in paperwork the whole time and then it turns out she knows every little thing that goes on in here. And she practically ordered me to teach you all my bad habits." 

"I've no intention of learning bad habits. The warden doesn't know as much as she thinks she does, or she'd let me out of here right now." Gadget replied a little sulkily, making no attempt to avoid being overheard. 

"Be quiet there! I don't recall giving either of you permission to speak and I certainly don't want to hear any of your nonsense young lady." The guard told Gadget sternly. 

Gadget hung her head in embarrassment. She felt like she was back in school. 

"Uh, excuse me, Officer Hodges?" Bubbles tried to sound like a good little girl. "Red hasn't been assigned a work detail yet."

"What? But that means I'll have to take her back to her cell after I've seen you to the laundry. Oh, and I was supposed to be off shift five minutes ago! This really is too much. We need more staff to run this place properly."

"If it's okay with you, I could take her to the cell and then find my own way to the laundry. Mrs. Trapper is on duty by the door to the laundry and she could let me in." Bubbles suggested helpfully.

"What about the doors to the cell block? I can't very well give you the keys, my girl." 

"I thought they only locked them at night."

"That's very true, these days. By rights those doors ought to be locked at all times." The hedgehog complained. "Very well then, but don't go wondering off. I'm holding you on your honour not to get me into trouble." 

"Thank you, Officer Hodges." Bubbles smiled gratefully as the guard let them through and locked the door behind them. 

Gadget, still smarting from the embarrassment of being told off, stuck her tongue out at the spiny mass of the hedgehog's retreating back. If she was going to be treated like a naughty schoolgirl then she was darn well going to act like one! 

The guard didn't notice and turned the corner of the hallway, clearly glad to be on the way home. Gadget smiled, glad to think that for once she had gotten away with something in this awful place – until a sudden, painful tug on her tail made her squeak out loud!

"What's the big idea?" Demanded Bubbles, the obedient and helpful child act long gone. "You didn't have to go and take a stupid risk like that. What if someone had else had seen you? Or what if I'd decided to try and get on that guard's good side by turning you in? Don't you ever _think_?" 

Gadget stared at Bubbles with wide eyes. "I just didn't like being told off like that." She said as she nursed her tail. 

"Well, you may not like it but you have to put up with it. I suppose you think all the other things they do to us around here are a wonderful delight, don't you?"

"No, of course not. Bubbles, why did you pull on my tail like that? Not even most children get treated like that these days!" 

"I don't know about most children but my parents were traditionalists and good tug on the tail set me straight many a time when I was growing up. Never did me any harm. Without a firm hand, who knows how I would have turned out?"

Gadget did a quick double take, but didn't point out that her friend was serving a fifteen-year sentence for warehouse robbery. "Are you going to do that every time I do something you don't like?" she asked instead. 

Bubbles looked her up and down thoughtfully. "Maybe." The more experienced mouse threatened. "I might even turn you over my knee if I get really annoyed, trying to keep you out of trouble." 

Bubbles left Gadget with that troubling thought as she led the way down the corridor. 

"Where are we going?" Gadget asked after a few minutes of worried silence. "This isn't the way to the cells." 

"I'm not taking you to the cells. The girls and I have decided to throw you a little coming out party. Coming out of the booby-hatch, that is." Bubbles told her.

"A party? But the guard didn't know…"

"The guards aren't supposed to know. They wouldn't allow it if they did know. They wouldn't be doing their jobs if they just let us have a good time in here." 

Gadget laughed. "I thought you were supposed to be keeping me OUT of trouble!" 

"Red, you're going to have to learn that there's trouble and then there's Trouble. If we get caught slacking off work with a little hooch and a few friends then we're in the first kind of trouble and we take a couple of days solitary and a few weeks' loss of privileges and it's no big deal. Some of the guards will even see the funny side and no one will be that bothered because it's the kind of trouble they can all understand. But if you go on calling yourself Gadget you're going to find yourself in the second kind of trouble, Red, and that's the kind of trouble where no one understands you, no one wants to know you and there ain't no way they're gonna forgive you. 

"Besides, you're going to need a few friends if you're going to survive in this place – there's safety in numbers and even if you keep a low profile there's going to be a few people who will think you're an easy target if you're on your own. And they'll hurt you, Red, because you're different, because you're pretty, because you're an easy target, because they think it's fun or just because they CAN." Bubble looked closely at her ward to see if her point had hit home. It had.

Gadget looked back at Bubbles, worriedly. She quite liked the dark haired mouse and it bothered her that one day Bubbles would find out the truth and perhaps hate her for being Gadget Hackwrench. For the moment, however, they were friends and Gadget was grateful to have Bubbles on her side. 

102

Bubbles led Gadget to a door marked "Keep Out" at the end of a corridor that looked unused, where the rhythmic thump of human machinery was audible from somewhere above. Gadget reasoned the sound would annoy most people and make this part of the prison underused, though she herself found the sound reassuring and almost homey. The room on the other side of the door was little more that a concrete box, most of which was hidden from sight by a row of freestanding shelves that had been stacked with soap flakes, conditioner and detergents. The room seemed silent and unoccupied, until Gadget's sharp eyes spied a large brown blinking eye staring at her from between two bottles of fabric softener.  

"Here she is! Our guest of honour." A dry, elderly voice cackled warmly. 

Gadget quickly found herself sitting on an upturned bucket with a circle of curious faces turned towards her. 

Seven guests had been invited to the party, counting Bubbles. The old voice apparently belonged to the owner of the brown eye – a very elderly mouse with tattered ears and moth-eaten fur. Sitting on Gadget's right, the old hag smiled toothlessly and welcomed Gadget, warmly, in a way that reminded her of Monty. 

"How are you, love? They not treating you too harshly, are they? Never mind if they are, we'll see you right, won't we girls?" 

Next to the old hag, a fat brown mole folded her arms and looked at Gadget with disapproval. The mole was clearly determined to remain silent and unimpressed but the two thin blond-haired mice beside her murmured their support. Gadget noticed that they were sitting so close to each other that they were practically touching and that they looked similar enough to be sisters. The sixth guest at the party was a terrapin with an inscrutable expression who, nonetheless, responded to Gadget's smile and wave by drawing an arm entirely into her or, just conceivably, _his_ shell and bringing out a selection of party hats. 

"My name's Darla, honey. That's not Darla Honey, just Darla." The old hag said and then gestured to the mole beside her. "This is Molly Velvet. Don't mind her ferocious expression – the Rescue Rangers are always harassing her nephew just because he works at a casino that's owned by a cat they don't like. She'll warm up to you as soon as she's sure you're one of us." 

"Pleased to meet you, Molly. That cat wouldn't be Fat Cat, the crime boss, would it?" 

"It would." Molly looked down her nose at Gadget. "And how would you know?" 

"Everyone knows Fat Cat's." Gadget responded automatically. 

"And everybody calls these two the twins 'cause they might as well be joined at the hip. You never see one without the other." Darla nodded to the two young mice who looked so similar to each other. 

"Are you actually related?" Gadget enquired politely. 

"Not by blood, no." the one on the right replied. With that, she held up her hand so Gadget could see her holding her friend's hand. Both mice smiled. 

Gadget blinked. While she was not the sheltered flower that many males supposed and had seen a great number of things in her time as a Rescue Ranger, she was suddenly prepared to admit that there were certain areas where her experience was quiet lacking. She was hoping to keep it that way. 

"The old reptile over there's been called Shelly as long as anyone can remember." Darla continued the introductions. "Doesn't say much but you'd be amazed what ol' Shelly can tuck away in that shell." 

Shelly, Gadget mused, was a name that could be used by either gender. She briefly wondered if anyone had ever checked or even asked whether the turtle was in the right prison. It didn't seem polite to ask, however, and Gadget satisfied herself with smiling and nodding. This led to a brief silence until Gadget realised she was expected to speak. 

"Uh, thanks for doing this for me, all of you. As you probably know I've been pretty much cut off from everybody for the last two weeks and it means a lot to me to see that there are people who are willing to show a friendly face and do something nice like this for me." Gadget was suddenly aware of tears welling up in her eyes. "I'm sorry, I was just trying to think of something nice to say but now that I think about it, I realise how much that's true. You're the first people I've met in the better part of a month who haven't treated me like scum. Everyone's hated me because of what they think I've done and I never had to deal with being hated before. If anything I've wished that people would like me less because all the attention I get bothers me sometimes." 

Shelly pulled an arm into her shell and after what seemed to be a good deal of rummaging, brought out a handkerchief, which she offered to Gadget. Gadget accepted the scrunched up ball of cloth and blew her nose, noisily. 

"Aw, honey, you want to be careful what you wish for." Darla told her gently. "By the time most girls get out of here they're desperate for that kind of attention." Darla's grin was less reassuring than she intended.

"Uh, if you don't mind me asking, how long have you…?" 

"Been inside? Twenty years. Luv. They ain't never going to let me out of here."

"That's because you mooned the parole board, Darla." Molly Velvet reminded her. 

"Buncha stiffs. Let's get this party hopping. Shelly and me have had something brewing for a while. Swiped us some apple juice from the kitchen and mixed it up with sugar and Bob's your uncle. Home made cider!"

Gadget blinked. She didn't usually drink and the last time she had somebody had stolen her life while she was sleeping it off. "Um, I've recently quit…" 

"Oh, come on luv. You don't think that we're trying to poison you, do ya?" 

Darla proffered a mug of something that was fizzing quietly. Gadget couldn't tell whether it was fizzing because it was bubbly or because it was dissolving whatever the cup was made out of. Gadget's eyes flickered towards Bubbles in the hope of rescue but there was none to be found. 

"Uh, well. If you insist…" 

"'Course I do, luv. You're the guest of honour so you've got to try it first." 

Gadget braced herself and raised the mug to her lips. The smell alone was enough to make her eyes water. As she poured the liquid into her mouth Gadget knew that the only thing that would allow her to swallow the home-brew was the knowledge that keeping the liquid in her mouth would be worse and spitting it out might result in being force fed the rest of the batch. 

The hooch hit her stomach like napalm. The prisoners watched as a curious transformation overcame their new recruit – Gadget had swallowed with her eyes tight shut but her eyeballs bulged behind the eyelids until the right one forced its way out from under the lid to stare at them, bloodshot and dilated. 

Gadget slowly lowered the mug, wondering what had happened to the room. It seemed larger, warmer and friendlier than before. The tip of her tongue flicked out to check for blisters on her lips and encountered her front teeth. She marvelled at how rough, pitted and furry they now were. 

She smacked her lips together to take away the stinging and peered at the others in the room blearily. "That'll put hairs on your tongue." She said.

"You see!" Darla grinned toothlessly. "She didn't even fall over! That proves it; this batch IS drinkable. Come on Shelly, dish it out." 

Within moments the prisoners were babbling happily, sharing out their illegal booze and grinning at one another. Shelly produced a tiny crystal radio set with a speaker made to fit in a human's ear. It was still loud enough to be heard by everyone. 

Gadget found herself bobbing her head in time to the music and marvelled at how easy it was to have a good time. In fact she found herself laughing. 

"Red, are you okay? Darla's homebrew can have some funny effects on people. Well, funny for the people watching at any rate." Bubbles peered at Gadget with a worried frown.

"Golly, I was just thinking how I must be a lot tougher than I ever thought I was."

"You aren't going to challenge anyone to a fight are you?"

"What? Jeepers, no. Why would I do that? No, I was just thinking how amazing it was that I could be sitting here, locked up in prison for something I'm completely innocent of, while all the while the one who did this to me is out there walking around as free as a bird, and yet all it takes is a few friendly faces and a little drinkie and I can still enjoy a good laugh. I mean, since all this started I've been chained, gagged, publicly humiliated, drenched, stripped, psychoanalysed, punched in the face twice and electrocuted but I can still relax and enjoy a good laugh any time I want. A laugh must be an incredibly resilient thing."

"What were you laughing at?"

Gadget frowned. "I can't remember." She looked around for someone to ask and realised the room was rather fuller than it had been before. She was seeing double. The twins had started dancing together and suddenly the room was wall to wall with twirling mice. Gadget started to ask Shelly if the terrapin could see the same as her, only to realise that while she could see only one Shelly to ask it was a Shelly with far more arms and faces than one terrapin ought to have. 

As Gadget gaped and pondered whether one of the reptile's two faces would speak only truth and the other only lies, the terrapin clicked, waggled and waved her fingers in the manner of a dancing Indian goddess. 

When Darla's face reared up before her, Gadget nearly fell on her tail. 

"Enjoying yourself, dearie? Like the music? Want to tell us a bit about yourself now you're more relaxed?"

Gadget opened her mouth to answer and hesitated. She vaguely recalled being told several times that there was something about herself that she had to stop telling people. That it was very important. She just couldn't recall all the details. She wondered if this was what Dale felt like all the time. 

"Well, I… uh… could I have some more homebrew?" Gadget stalled. 

"Uh-uh, Red. When you want to drink more of Darla's homebrew, that means you've had too much already." Bubbles came to her rescue. "Why don't you keep your mouth busy with some talking – you can't be a wallflower at your own party, you know." 

Gadget nodded before the dreadful implications set in. "Uh, do you mean I'm going to have to dance with someone?" 

"What's the matter, sweetheart?"  One of the twins asked. 

"You got weak ankles or something?" The other teased. 

Bubbles smiled wickedly. "You don't have to dance – or do anything else you don't want to – with anyone here. But it ain't the way with everyone, so you stick close to one of us, or both of the twins, until you know your way around in here." 

"You can trust the twins." Molly Velvet put in when Gadget cast a sceptical look towards the two mice waltzing mice. "They're two of the most trustworthy people in here, in fact."

The twins looked over and smiled at the compliment. 

"Oh, yes. You can trust us." One said. 

"We'll be happy to look after you." The other agreed. 

Gadget raised an eyebrow at Molly Velvet but the mole's only response was a long, steady stare. 

"Red? You okay?" Bubbles asked after a moment. 

"Um, I'm not sure I really understand what you're trying to tell me… but I would like to know one thing. Bubbles, why are you helping me?" Gadget looked at her new friend with a tinge of worry. 

"Because… I don't know. You took an interest in me on the barge when I was down and you weren't doing it to get anything out of me. You're willing to believe what people tell you, even when they've made it clear that they don't believe a word you have to say." Bubbles put her hand on Gadget's shoulder and leaned closer. "I think maybe you're a nice person, Red. Maybe even a good person." She said gently. "Just a little mixed up in the head, that's all. 

"I can't see any kind of real bad in you; I can't even see much in the way of hate, or selfishness. I can't believe that you could be this way and not have someone out there to worry about you. There must be someone who's trying to find you. Someone who loves you and who's missing you."

"Yeah, that's right. You listen to the girl." Molly admonished Gadget. "You think about that person, not knowing whether you've been eaten by a cat or squished by a human automobile. You think about their suffering." 

Darla leaned close enough for the smell of homebrew to crinkle Gadget's nose. "How about it, honey? If you tell us who they are, maybe we could find them. They might be able to help you with an appeal or pay for a good lawyer. They could tell the judge about that you had a previous good character. Even if they were just someone to send you the occasional letter, you'd be amazed what a good letter counts for when you think the world outside has forgotten you." 

Gadget looked at them all carefully. She licked her lips and had one last try at staying honest. "Just supposing…" She slurred and tried again. "Just suppose that I was really Gadget Hackwrench? What would you do then?"

Bubbles sighed VERY heavily. 

Molly Velvet folded her arms at took a deep breath. "WELL! Since you asked, Missy, I've been wanting to have a talk with that particular young lady – preferably while she's hanging from the ceiling by a knot in her tail!"

"Heh, heh. That would be a good start." Darla agreed. "I know one or two who wouldn't mind steam-ironing that tail afterwards." 

"What about you girls?" Molly asked the twins. 

The twins stared Gadget with deadpan expressions. "We're not into violence." One said.

"Make love, not war." The other agreed. 

There was a brief silence as Gadget tried to decide how to interpret that remark. 

"Not that we'd get the chance, of course." Molly went on. "Not with all the pussy cats in this place – softies like us would never get a look in." 

Bubbles looked sideways at Gadget and caught her eye. "What do you think they'd do to her, Molly?"

"Heck, I don't know. It wouldn't be pretty, that's for sure. Steam-ironing her tail might be about right. Depend on the circumstances. If they had the run of the place they might put her into that old microwave in the kitchen; it's big enough to just walk into. I heard a girl got shut in with the entire prison's Sunday lunch one time. It was an accident, not deliberate or anything. She just went in there to get something while the guards back was turned and the next thing she knew she was cooking along with the carrots and beans."

"Nah," Darla disagreed. "I reckon they'd put her through the meat grinder."

"What's the meat grinder?" Gadget asked, assuming it was prison slang for something horrible. 

"Why, bless you lass, it's what they use to turn the steak they swipe from the human kitchen up top into minced beef for those of us who eat meat. Hind feet first, they'd feed her into it, I bet you anything – " 

"Well as long as they didn't make her do human impressions." One of the twins said. The other twin squealed with mock shock and horror. 

"Human impressions?" Gadget asked the question against her better judgement but a morbid fascination drew it out of her.

The inmates stopped talking. The radio was the only sound in the room, its tinny dance number changing to a mournful song by a human female vocalist whose man had done her wrong. 

"You aren't talking about pretending to be a particular human to make people laugh, or about just walking around in a bad pair of Bermuda shorts, burping and scratching, while comparing some other human to a perfectly respectable kind of animal the rest of us would be quite happy to have as a neighbour, as though there was something terrible about that particular species, are you?" Gadget said wearily. 

"She's got a right to know. I heard one or two of the others talking about it like they were thinking of doing it." Molly said after exchanging a silent stare with Bubbles. 

"Talk, that's all it was, Molly." Bubbles replied. 

"For the moment. She's got to know, Bubbles. Either she hears it from her friends or she'll hear it from someone else when her back's up against a wall."

Bubbles hesitated. "I heard stories my first time in prison, but I've always thought they were just stories meant to frighten new inmates – you know, like ghost stories being told to first time campers when you're a kid? Darla, you've been inside longer than just about anyone, anyone who isn't senile, anyway. Have you seen someone get turned human, or known someone who was?" 

Darla grew quiet and her eyes misted with age, or perhaps memory, or perhaps sadness. "Once dear, a very long time ago. I used to be an orderly in the hospital wing when I'd only been here a couple of years. There was nothing wrong with her but they let her stay there the whole time. I asked around and I was told that she had betrayed an escape attempt because she thought that it would help her get remission. When she didn't get it and there was a riot the following year, a group of the inmates she betrayed got her cornered and turned her human." 

"Yeah, but what do they do when they do that?" Bubbles pressed.

"Well, first they take your clothes away from you and if you're lucky they shave you from your nose to the tip of your tail. That's so you're bald all over, like a human, see?"

"Um, what happens if you're unlucky?" 

"They set fire to your clothes and use the flames…" 

"Right, right." Gadget said. "So that's why they call it turning you human. Because you're bald all over like a human." 

"Yeah, usually that's as far as they go. By that time the person's all begging and people start to feel sorry for them." 

Gadget blinked slowly. "Usually?" 

"If that's not enough, then they make the person they're turning human hide their tail." 

"Hide… how? By wrapping it around their waist or something?" 

"No… you know what I mean. Tell her Bubbles." The old mouse was blushing. 

"I've heard… well, dang it, use your imagination, Red!" Bubbles flushed. 

Gadget did. After half a minute, she looked at Bubbles with an innocent expression and shrugged in bewilderment. 

Bubbles blinked. Then she told Gadget where they hid the tail. 

There was a long silence. 

"Uh, they really do that?" Gadget asked finally, keeping her eyes fixed on the ceiling. 

"Yeah. See, the prisoners threaten to cut it off if otherwise, so the person's got no choice." 

There was another long silence. 

"There's more isn't there?" Gadget sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. 

"Yes. If they still aren't happy they take something sharp and trim the victim's ears to look like a human's." Darla confirmed. 

"And that's it?"

"Sometimes they make them do humorous impressions of well-known humans between each stage. If the would-be-human can make the angry mob laugh then they get to walk away…" 

Gadget sat very still and considered her options, silently figuring this latest information into all her moral equations and contemplating her future. "You said there had been talk…" 

"Now don't get panicky, Red." Bubbles jumped in before Gadget could run screaming at the walls. "We're here to look after you and most of the cons don't care one way or the other about some goody-two-shoes little celebrity who thinks she's smarter than everyone else on the planet. Its just talk, that's all." 

"I bet that Roxy started it." Molly Velvet broke her long silence with tones that rang with disapproval. 

"You remember Roxy?" Bubbles asked. "White mouse? The cops knocked on her door and she got seven years 'cause her boyfriend gave her bag of stolen goods to look after while he climbed out a back window? The one who ended up soaked in sewer water and with a bruised tail because you didn't know when to keep your mouth shut on the way here? She's still mad at you, well, actually she's mad at her boyfriend but she wants to do someone some damage and it looks like she's settled on you."

Darla leaned close enough to Gadget to kiss her. The old con peered searchingly into the young inmate's eyes. "You don't have to put up with the likes of Roxy, lass. Tell us who you really are. Give us your name so we can tell your folks where to find you. They can bring a doctor or a lawyer for you." 

Gadget blinked. "I guess my name is Red. And for now, you guys are the closest thing to family I've got. Want to drink a toast with me?" 

Gadget raised her homebrew high. 

"To family." 


	16. Guests, Visitors and Visitations

**_Disclaimer_**

_In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone…  except a certain kind of lawyer._

Chapter Sixteen

**Guests, Visitors and Visitations**

102

Chip scowled as the Ranger Wing caught a thermal and soared like an eagle. The added height meant they could take a more direct route and would be less visible from the ground, but he didn't like it that they were using the Ranger Wing at all. It didn't have the lifting gear that the Ranger plane did and it couldn't carry as many people as the Ranger Plane had been able to. 

Dale was in the back seat, checking the ropes, cutting gear and first-aid equipment. Next to him the young, brown furred weasel sat with his eyes tight shut. The youth had probably never flown before; few thinking animals had and few wanted to. Flight might be exciting and daring to the bright young things who wrote in their diaries with secret glee on days when they spotted an aeroplane so small that they knew it must surely have been built without the aid of human hands, but those whose work forced them into the air knew it was a cold, dangerous and unreliable way to travel. 

Monty touched the controls lightly, sending the Ranger Wing into a spiral towards the College Stadium where the water tower had collapsed. He had enjoyed the occasional weekend of downtime there with the others; together they watched the college's human baseball team go through their paces in the season and visited the thriving animal market under the bleachers. The whole place was ancient and had been unpainted and barely maintained by the humans who were supposed to care for it for decades – the perfect place for animal culture to thrive for a brief time before the giants that owned the world remembered this particular corner of it. 

Beside Monty, Chip spoke up. 

"Monty, I'm worried." Chip's voice was low and neutral. He was trying to avoid being overheard by the weasel in the backseat, and perhaps by Dale and Zipper as well. 

Monty spared Chip a glance before turning back to the controls. "I sort of noticed that, pally. Something happen up at the prison?"

"You might say that something that should have happened, didn't." Chip replied.

Monty nodded. He accepted the subtle difference between the two and did not accuse the detective of splitting hairs. Instead the big mouse asked, pointedly: "Was it something that justifies being late for Gadget's welcome home party?" 

"Oh! Gee, was I missed?" Chip at least had the decency to look embarrassed. "I did my best to get back in time, it's was just that there was more involved in getting in to see her than I thought." 

"Her?" Monty arched an eyebrow. 

Until now the rangers had always referred to Gadget's facsimile as "The Impostor", or "The Fake Gadget" or other, less polite things when they could be sure they would not be overheard. This was the first time that Monty could recall someone referring to the girl in Shrankshaw prison in the same tones they might use to talk about somebody they had met on the street. 

"Huh? Oh, I see." Chip understood and borrowed a leaf from Dale's book. He resorted to humour. "Well, if you had any doubts, you'll be relieved to hear the person who duped most of the state into thinking she was Gadget Hackwrench wasn't a female impersonator." Chip played with his hat for a moment, watching the burly Australian out of the corner of his eye. 

"I think I can see the water tower from here. Or what's left of it." Monty signalled his loss of interest in Chip's problems. 

"I think there might be something wrong out at Shrankshaw prison, Monty. If I'm right, our most recent headache might not be the only person affected by it."

Monty tilted his head to indicate that he was still listening. 

"They've got over a thousand inmates up at that prison; a few of them are only there for defaulting on court fines. Didn't you get a couple of fines last spring for taking more than your own body weight in cheese from that Dutch freighter? And what else was it? Having a couple of lead weights under your coat?"

"Yeah, but the limits were set low for that freighter, normally it's one and half times your own body weight." Monty grumbled. The incident had been embarrassing and he had tried to put it behind him. 

"Did you finish paying those fines yet?" Chip was enjoying making Monty feel uncomfortable.

"Anyone can make a mistake, be a little forgetful when life gets busy." Monty said as he made a mental note to make sure he covered the last instalment when they got home. 

"By that logic, anyone could find themselves in Shrankshaw, then. Oh, anyone female, I mean." Chip waved a paw to brush aside Monty's imminent objection. 

"Yeah, I suppose. Almost anyone." Monty allowed. 

Chip lapsed into silence for a moment. If Monty had pressed him, even Chip wouldn't have been able to put his thoughts into words. 

They were about to come in for a landing and Monty didn't want to leave a topic like this hanging in midair, as it were. "What sort of problem do you think they have?" 

"The prisoner I went to see was wrapped up tighter than a human on a cold day. They had her strapped to a gurney and straitjacketed. They even had a hockey mask on her to stop her biting." Chip broached the source of his worries head on, now that the flight was almost over and he was running out of time. "I tried every legitimate trick in the book to get that girl to open up to me but I couldn't get a peep out of her. For a while I thought it was just dumb insolence, then I figured that they had her juiced up." 

"And is there any reason to think otherwise?" Monty rumbled. 

"She seemed to understand what I was saying. Answered yes and no. Tried sign language with her tail." 

"She was gagged?" Monty's interest was piqued, but not for long. "Guards ran out of patience with her potty mouth, I dare say. I heard that when she was pretending to be our Gadget, she hit her thumb with a hammer and used language that would make a sailor blush – in front of children too!" 

"Made it hard to interview her."

"Shoulda asked 'em to un-gag her then."

"I didn't realise she was gagged until I was on my way out. I wanted to make it back in time to welcome Gadget home. Guess I was slacking off, Monty. I should know better."

Monty spared Chip a questioning glance. "You're too hard on yourself. You could use a little slack. And you know what else?" 

"No, Monty. What else?"

"You could use a little more slack on top of the first lot. Maybe then you'd have some for the rest of us when we needed it." Monty ribbed him gently. Before the chipmunk could respond, the Australian was bringing the Ranger Wing in for a careful landing. 

Chip pushed his fedora down until it was tight around his head with a rueful grin. He hoped Gadget was enjoying her party. 

103

Lawhiney smiled as she opened another present and made grateful noises. She had quickly realised the correct Gadget-like response was to be happy and grateful for anything she was given, even if it was something weird like a gearbox from a model helicopter or a sprocket set. After that, playing Gadget's friends for suckers was as easy as conning the small-town simpletons she had been gulling for pocket money before she met Pierre and Brandon. Everyone had come here to see Gadget. They had seen the Rangers call her Gadget. They just accepted it without thinking. 

The only hard part was keeping the permanent grin on her face. 

Pretending to be Gadget would be a lot easier if I'd stolen some happy pills from the hospital, Lawhiney thought. Of course, I could scowl and cuss out every one of them and they'd just put it down to the bang on the head I took. Dang, I'm good. Everyone is just so convinced that I'm Gadget Hackwrench…

She found herself nose to nose with her guide. The deeply etched scowl on his face suggested that he either possessed previously un-displayed mind reading powers or that his mortal life had been a good deal less pleasant than Lawhiney would have expected the life of an agent of the powers of light to be. 

"Does this look like mending your ways?" the Guide asked coldly. "Because it doesn't to me. It looks like taking advantage of some good people who have been worried for someone they care about. You've been given some time to get yourself together and do the right thing. Which is to confess. Not pile up the goodies." 

"And another thing I don't think is right is the way all the papers said they didn't believe the rumours early on and then repeated the rumours word for word. And this cartoon they printed. It's terrible." Mrs Booby said. 

Lawhiney looked up into a large editorial cartoon that showed her, or rather Gadget, playing with a huge chemistry set and reading from a large copy of "Doctor Jeckell and Mister Hyde". The caption read: "Rumours, about me? What rumours?" 

Lawhiney smiled faintly. "I suppose I should take greater notice of what people are saying about me. Of course, no one wants to say something nasty about me to my face."

"Oh, I don't know. I can think of a few things." The Guide was competing for her attention. 

"You bury yourself all day in the workshop and only come out when someone needs rescuing." Tammy said. "If you live that way for long enough, it's only a matter of time before you need rescuing yourself. You need something else in your life."  A devious light came into the young squirrel's eyes noticed only by Lawhiney, a seasoned con artist herself. "I hear a certain lab rat is still available." 

"Huh? Oh! I say, isn't it disgraceful, this headline is even worse than the rest." A thin blond rat in a lab coat, who was about a head taller than Lawhiney struggled to change the subject. He held up a paper that declared in bold typeface: "**ORPHANAGE SWINDLED!**" 

Lawhiney didn't need to see the story – somewhere in the wreckage of her outlaws' original aircraft was a scrapbook with every news story ever printed about their crimes pasted into it. Gadget didn't care about publicity but Lawhiney did. This issue of the "City Crier" would bleat about how someone claiming to be Gadget Hackwrench had spoken to a dozen wealthy charity workers with a view to arranging a benefit for a local orphanage. Then on the night, she had accepted every penny they had raised on behalf of the orphanage only to be called away on an urgent rescue halfway through her speech. She had taken the money with her and never been seen since. One of her triumphs, she could not resist the temptation to smile at the memory. 

The Guide glowered. "That's right; one of your greatest moments. Fifty people worked round the clock for two weeks to help the orphaned children of their neighbourhood and then just handed it all to you, on stage, in front of everyone! All you had to do was take it, say a few polite words, disappear on cue and leave Gadget to take the blame. It was the perfect crime." 

Lawhiney had the grace to blush but not for the right reasons. She felt no shame for cheating the orphanage; she took pride in proving herself smarter than the authorities and the stiffs who worked for a living. The Guide's praise for her criminal genius was simply a little rich after having gone without for so long. 

"Yes, feel ashamed, Lawhiney! You haven't just robbed people of their material things, which can be replaced, you've robbed the world of the good they were doing!" The Guide, ever optimistic, misunderstood.

"Are you alright? You're looking a little flushed, my dear." Tammy's mother was worried. She could not see the Guide, any more than anyone else in the room could, except for Lawhiney. "You must tell us if you're not feeling up to this." 

"That's alright." Lawhiney said quickly. "I'm quite looking forward to that make-over Tammy promised me. Did you bring any hair-dye?" Lawhiney was conscious that her bottled blond look was starting to show.

Tammy blinked. "Of course! Hey, come with us! By the time the others come back, even Chipper won't recognize you!" 

"Oh, you don't have to go that far!" Lawhiney exclaimed in alarm. She needed to look as much like Gadget as possible to keep getting away with this, after all. 

"It's no trouble at all, and we can gossip while we work. Come on, girls. This is going to be so much fun…" Tammy started to wheel Gadget's chair out of the living room. 

"Oh, sure! You girls can talk about old times while you're at it! Oh, no, that's right. You can't talk about old times Lawhiney, because you weren't there for them!" The Guide shouted after the departing girls but in deference to ancient male customs he did not follow them.

"Hey, that's not a bad idea." Lawhiney's voice floated through the still open doorway. "Girls, I had a real bad concussion in the crash and the doctors say I should spend as much time as possible checking to see if I've got any gaps in my memories. Because of possible brain damage, you know?"

104

Chip jumped out of the landed Ranger Wing. Strictly speaking it didn't matter who got out of the Ranger Wing first, but someone had to be first and when there were other people already at the site he liked it to be him so that he could make a good first impression. Not that there was anything wrong with the others, it was just that, well, they didn't have his diplomatic skills. 

The grass had been cut short at the end of the summer season but hadn't been touched since and was shoulder high on Chip. For a moment he wished he had a machete so he could cut a path, but of course no sane small animal, sentient or otherwise, would deliberately leave a trail so obvious to the eyes of a predator. 

"Looks like ground keeper 'as been slacking off." Monty looked down at Chip and smiled warmly. The grass was only chest high on him. 

Good cover the grass might be, Chip reflected, but it got in the way and made him look short. Not that he was – he was normal for a chipmunk. 

The foreman of the construction site seemed to be managing the rescue operations, if only because he was the only one left standing with any authority who knew his way around a building site. About a dozen construction workers jumped from one task to another as he barked orders at them. Chip stood back for five seconds and took stock. He especially took notice when someone ran over from the crowd of bystanders under the bleachers and put their hand on the foreman's shoulder. The muscular brown rat in the hard hat pretended to ignore the smaller, skinnier rat the first time, but quietly sized up the new arrival out of the corner of his eye. 

Careful, Chip noted. He liked that.

The skinny rat got impatient and put his hand on the foreman's shoulder a second time. He quickly found himself lying on his back as stars danced in his eyes. The foreman hadn't used his full strength, Chip noted, that would have knocked teeth out. Reasonable force, Chip mused.

"Want me to go over and try talking to him in his own language, Chipper?" Monty offered, watching the goings on with a critical eye.

"No thank you, Monty. I think I can handle it." 

"You sure about that? He's a big fella." Monty looked dubiously at the shorter chipmunk. 

Chip closed in on the foreman without replying. He approached the same way as the skinny rat had done, from the side at walking speed. The skinny rat was just struggling to his feet and slinking the other way. 

"I wouldn't bother, if I were you." The rat warned Chip while nursing a bruised eye. 

Chip waved him away without a glance then placed his own hand on the foreman's shoulder. This time the foreman's swing was less restrained. Chip was ready for it. He caught the arm close to the wrist and elbow and dropped low. The foreman's fist passed over Chip's head and kept going. Chip encouraged it on its way, making sure the rat's whole body followed it in short order. 

The brown rat looked up in surprise. 

"Oh, sorry about that." Chip lied. "Reflex action, couldn't stop myself. I'm Chip Maplewood, I work with a group called the Rescue Rangers. We heard you could use some help." He gave the information a couple of seconds to filter through the foreman's brain. 

"Hey, boss? You need some help over there?" one of the workers called from where the surviving builders were trying to clear wreckage.

"Let me give you a hand up." Since Chip hadn't let go of the rat's wrist in the first place, it was hard for the rat to refuse. Chip pulled him on to his feet. 

"Say, who did ya say ya were?" The rat snarled. 

"Chip Maplewood. We're the Rescue Rangers. You sent the young weasel over there to get help?" Chip suddenly found himself worried that this might be the only rodent in the city who hadn't heard of them. 

"I sent him to get the Street Watch from the dumpster over by the hospital. If you guys are the Rescue Rangers, there's just one thing I wanna know…" 

"What?" Chip braced himself, ready for trouble. 

"How's Gadget doing? Is she going to be okay?" 

105

It was over an hour before the Rangers got proper lifting gear in place to move the wreckage. Dale had almost instantly formed a friendship with the skinny rat the foreman had punched. It had been fortunate, since he had approached the foreman with the names of twenty volunteers from the small animal market under the bleachers. Chip had immediately placed eight of them as lookouts to warn of approaching humans or predators. The rest he had set to work concealing evidence of animal civilization, an important but often forgotten task in the heat of the moment. 

Normally Gadget would have supervised the task of rigging up makeshift block and tackle rope systems to lift the heavier parts of the debris. She wasn't there. Fortunately they had a dozen willing workers who knew their way around a building site. It wasn't that she wasn't needed, Chip thought, it was there were others who could cover for her absence instead of just lifting heavy objects. 

Zipper barrel-rolled out through a passageway no wider than Chip's head. "BZZtt! Buuzzt. Bzzbzz bzz." He reported. 

Chip nodded thankfully to the fly. They were lucky. Five live but injured people trapped in the wreckage. One conscious and more or less unscathed in spite of dropping sixty feet surrounded by pieces of timber big enough to crush him into jelly. One severely injured and probably dying. The rest in varying states in between but two thankfully close enough together to be pulled out at the same time. 

"We need this plank of wood shored up."

"Get this skateboard closer to the site. We can't be carrying stuff back and forward." 

"See if you can find any more rope. Most of what we had is under that lot." 

It was the usual mix of banter, catcalls, weeping and orders that you hear in any disaster area when people haven't given up hope yet. He and Zipper were the only ones who knew the actual numbers that were left alive in there. How many workers did they think were in the place when it collapsed? A dozen, the young weasel had said. That meant seven dead in there, probably in pieces given the weight of the wood timbers that had come down around them. 

For a moment, Chip was grateful Gadget wasn't there. In a moment he would have to make a decision about which survivor to go after first. His logic said the two who were close together. They gave the best value in terms of saved lives for a given amount of time and effort. If Gadget had been here she would have told him the dying person's only hope was if they went after him first. And maybe he would have overruled her. 

Dale would go for whoever was closest without hesitating. So would Monty. 

Zipper had just spent ten minutes flying and crawling around under a jumbled pile of wood as high as a human. The dead weren't as horrifying to carrion eaters as they were to herbivores but even so it wasn't fair to ask or speculate what Zipper wanted to do right now. 

"We go for the two who are close together." Chip decided. 

"If we move the wrong timber, the whole thing will collapse." The foreman warned. 

"Zipper's about to go back in to mark a trail to each casualty with silk thread. I'll go in with him and check each timber myself. I can tap on them with a hammer if you can find me one and you can identify which timber I'm working on from the sound." Chip began tying a string around his waist. "Number them. I'll take notes of which timber is holding others up."

"You're sure about this? One slip and – " 

"I'm sure. Dale's too clumsy and Monty's too… well, he just couldn't fit between the timbers. Zipper can't get a line to the casualties and do this at the same time. Besides, I doubt he could hit a timber hard enough for you to hear it up here. You'll have to lay your ear against the wood as it is." Chip set his jaw and disappeared through the best available hole. 

Inside was a maze of shadows, sloping wood, nails and blood. 

Chip slid smoothly down a steeply angled plank of wood. He rolled off the side when he saw the twisted, rusty point of a six-inch nail coming towards him. 

He was in freefall for about two feet before he kicked out at a vertical beam to push him self towards a likely looking handhold, another nail that jutted from the side of a tilted timber shaft. This nail was shiny and new. It held his weight easily enough but was angled downwards and slippery with what Chip hoped was water. 

Reluctant to climb up onto a beam that might be soaked in blood, Chip began swinging his legs until he had built up enough momentum to jump on a horizontal plank of wood that was running from left to right in front of him. 

Good start, he thought. He held his hands in a shear column of sunlight that had penetrated the woodpile like a spear and checked them for blood. They were liberally coated in mushroom soup. Chip could not suppress a giggle. One of the workers must have brought some in for lunch. He took a cloth from his jacket pocket and wiped off his hands, then decided that this timber was as good as any to start with. 

Chip took out a piece of chalk and marked the timber with the number 1. Then he began hammering against the wood as hard as he could. 

Forty-five minutes later, Chip Maplewood hauled himself out from under the wreckage of the building site. He lay on his back in the grass, looking up at the clear blue sky, and he thought of Gadget. 

Out here in the light there could be such beauty, he puzzled. Yet at the same time the world could be so harsh. He thought of the workers in their water tower and wondered about the people who were at home, sweeping the floor or perhaps preparing dinner for a husband or a father that was never going to return. He thought of Gadget alone in her father's derelict aeroplane for a lonely year of mourning. 

Still, the sky was beautiful. Something dark and misshapen obscured it.

"Hey-ya, Chip. We thought you were chipmunk pate for sure back then when one of the support struts shifted out of whack. Say, you were down there for a long time. In fact, you were down there so long, I think you've started to sprout mushrooms. You sure do smell of them." 

Chip sat up and bonked Dale on the head. 

"Hey!" Dale objected. For a moment he looked like he wanted to return the favour.

Chip was glad when his friend had the sense to turn away. He was the leader and he was in no mood to be trifled with. 

"We did what you asked and numbered each piece of lumber when you knocked on it. How many did you check?" 

"Fifty-nine. I only did the major ones that seemed to be taking most of the load, or the really dangerous looking ones that looked like they wouldn't take much to fall. I was scared to knock on some of them in case that was all it took." 

"We only got 28 beams." The foreman said. "We might have missed a couple but I'm pretty sure you were beating on different sections of the same pieces of wood several times in a row. I've got a list of the sections that we definitely heard knocking on more than once." 

"We'll have to go over it pretty carefully." Chip agreed.

"Hey! Look out!" screamed somebody out of sight. 

Chip spun in the direction of the yell and for one brief instant he could see a wooden "A" frame with a block and tackle rig falling towards him. The foreman was jumping like a jackrabbit and Dale was rolling for cover in the opposite direction. Chip was standing in the middle but it was too late for him to do anything but cover his head before he was crushed. 

Chip closed his eyes. 

The "A" frame fell towards him and his entire body passed through the gap between the top of the A and the strut that held the two legs of the frame apart, like Buster Keeton passing through the window of a falling house-front in a silent comedy. 

Chip opened one eye in amazement. He was still standing, and unharmed! He looked heavenwards with a grateful word on his lips. 

The pulley on the end of the block and tackle's rope promptly hit him right between the eyes. 

106

Chip jumped and shoulder rolled to avoid the steam iron that someone had suspended above the doorway. He just barely had time to reach back and snatch up his fedora before the iron slapped into the hard concrete surface and steam blasted him in the face. He stumbled backwards and fell onto his tail. 

"Chipper! Look out, pally!" Monty's voice boomed from behind him. 

Chip looked over his shoulder in time to see the circular blade from a bacon slicer machine coming at him horizontally at just the right height to take his head off. In front of Chip, the steam iron was pumping out so much steam that it had begun bouncing around on the floor and looked like it was about to blast off. 

Chip did the only thing he could and lay flat on his back. The circular blade passed in front of his face less than an arm's length away, the tiny serrated teeth on its edge making the air hiss as it went by. 

Realising the blade would inevitably meet the steam iron, which already whistled like a kettle and looked fit to burst at any second, Chip sausage rolled onto his front and began commando crawling towards his friend. 

"Hurry!" Dale urged him as Monty beckoned him on.

Slowly, a heavy metal door began to lower itself between Chip and his friends, no doubt controlled by the same mechanism that drove the bacon slicer. Chip tried to crawl faster but it seemed impossible. There was a three-foot long stretch corridor between him and the rapidly closing doorway. 

Monty put his shoulder under the iron door and tried to halt it's downward progress, but it was clear that the most he could do would be to buy Chip a few extra seconds. 

Chip redoubled his efforts. "I can just make it!" he thought. He stretched a hand out to pull himself clear of the blade and saw the ruby red light of a laser beam light up his hand. 

Jets of flame instantly shot down into the corridor from a dozen Zippo cigarette lighters that were fixed to the ceiling. 

Chip snatched his arm back and saw to his horror that the fur on the back of his hand and wrist was alight. Making "Woo-woo" noises he puffed out his cheeks and blew on the flames while using his other hand to beat them out with his fedora. 

The floor he was laying on clearly wasn't covered by the laser sensors, but by the time the saw blade was clear and he could stand up Monty would be on his knees and reaching the door before the iron exploded would be impossible. 

Chip's eyes met Dale's and a moment of silent communication passed between them. Dale stepped forward, to help his friend, but Chip held up a paw to stop him. "It's all right." He called. "I'll be fine. I know just how I'm going to get out of this." 

For his own benefit, Chip added more quietly: "I'm not going to be all right. I have no idea how I'm going to get out of this." 

"Run for it, mate! I can't hold this door much longer." Monty shouted. 

Chip winced and hoped that his friends could put the flames out quickly when he reached them. There had been a delay of just under a second between the laser touching his hand and the homemade flamethrower trying to flash fry him. Hopefully he could out run the worst of it. 

The bacon slicer blade passed him by. 

Chip jumped up and ran for it.

The first flamethrower was slow and missed him but as it fired so did the one at the end of the corridor, directly in front of the door. Chip hadn't seen it do that the first time the trap had fired! 

As the second flamethrower fired behind him, singing his fur, another, closer, flamethrower ignited at the end of the corridor. The sequence they were firing in meant that when Chip reached the halfway point there would be no way to avoid being incinerated. 

Chip yelped, spun on his heel and ran back towards the circular saw, unable to see it for the curtain of fire between him and it. Only the turned up collar of his leather jacket and the fedora pulled tightly down on his head protected him from a grilling. 

He emerged from the flames to find himself less than a body length from the waist-high saw blade and hurtling towards it too fast to stop. Desperately he jumped into the air and came down running on the left hand side of the blade. 

The room span too quickly for the eye to follow and Chip found himself flying through the air, blasts of flame blossoming around him as he soared past the flamethrowers close enough to touch them. He arced back towards the ground, barely having enough time to curl into a ball and start rolling to break his fall. 

Pain shot through his shoulder as he landed, bounced and cannoned through the knee-high gap at the bottom of the iron door. He knocked Monty's legs out from under the big mouse as he did so and all three of the rangers ended up in a tangled heap of arms, legs and smouldering fur and clothes as the door clanged shut. 

On the other side of the door, the saw blade bit into the side of the steam iron. High-pressure steam screamed as it escaped, then the iron exploded, shattering the steel blade. Deadly shrapnel tore the room apart, ripping open some of the flamethrowers. Their fuel spilled out, igniting as it hit the flamethrowers pilot lights and becoming a shower of fire. 

The heat was too much and fixings that held another of the converted lighters to the ceiling melted. The lighter dropped, exploding when it hit the concrete floor. 

On the ceiling the last of the flamethrowers began to cook off, exploding one by one as the flames from below reached them. 

The explosions rattled the heavy iron door that the rangers had barely made it through alive. 

Chip lay still until he got his breath back. Then, without bothering to pull himself out from under the pile of his friends he spoke. "Monty, is it just me, or did that last trap bear a striking resemblance to a Gadget Hackwrench patent-pending Salesman Stopper Trap number four?"

"Aye, lad. That it did." Monty rumbled. "And the one we limbo danced under before that, wasn't it a Door-to-Door Destroyer number three?"

"It certainly looked like it, Monty. I'm beginning to suspect that something terrible has gone wrong in our justice system." 

With the unmistakable crack and buzz of a heavy-duty transformer springing into action, Chip, Dale, Monty and Zipper were fixed in the glare of a spotlight. Hastily, all four heroes scrambled to their feet. 

Dale gulped loudly as the lights came up to reveal that they were trapped in a large chamber surrounded by a huge crowd of angry, armed, female convicts. "What sort of something did you have in mind, Chip?" he asked nervously. 

The mob began to part to let their leader through. 

"Something like that, Dale." Chip replied, pointing to where a familiar figure was emerging. 

She was slightly taller than either Chip or Dale and walked with a natural grace that she probably didn't know she had. She wore her hair long enough to reach her tail and it was closer to being red than blond; it bounced with every step she took towards them and she didn't stop until she was close enough for them to see the anger that was flashing in her clear blue eyes. 

With one voice the convicts began to chant… "Red! Red! Red! Red! Red! Red!"

"All this was over interior décor?" Dale marvelled. "Well, I guess I wouldn't want to be surrounded by grey twenty-four hours a day, either." 

"I think Red is what they call their leader, Dale." Chip said darkly. 

"But you have another name for me, don't you Chip?" The young mouse woman said.

"Lawhiney?" Chip held out to the last, hoping his worst fears were unjustified. 

"Guess again! Only one person knows how to build those traps you just fought your way past, just as I knew that only you and not the prison authorities could successfully defeat my creations, just as you did once before when we first met! " The words came quick and fast in a way that made her identity undeniable. 

"Gadget?!" all the Rangers chorused. 

"Yes! Gadget Hackwrench! But no longer a Rescue Ranger! I was abandoned by the system and so I have abandoned it! The Law and Order that should have protected me tried to destroy me, so now I will try to destroy them! At least, until the Warden gives into our demands for a beauty parlour, a workshop and a television in the recreation room, anyhow…" 

The machine gun speed the words came out was proof enough for Chip. He buried his face in his hands to hide the tears of sorrow that welled up in his eyes. "Gadget," he choked, "I'm sorry! I can't imagine what you must have suffered. Please, don't turn away from us to embrace the forces of darkness!" 

"Actually, they're not that dark anymore. I built a 2000-watt arc lamp. But why should I want to come back to you when my place has been stolen by another?" 

"Gadget, no one could take your place, love!" Monty tried to reason with her.

Gadget was unmoved. She held up a newspaper that bore the headline: "**RESCUE RANGER ROMANCE! Chip Maplewood and Gadget Hackwrench to Marry!**" A half page picture showed Chip and someone who looked like Gadget kissing for the cameras.

"You can't tell the difference between me and some bimbo who doesn't know one end of a hammer from the other, just because she has great big… blue eyes! And you expect me to forgive you just like that?" Gadget fumed. 

"It's okay." Chip whispered to his friends. "I'll handle this." 

Very slowly, Chip Maplewood, leader of the Rescue Rangers, walked forward from the rest of the group. Then he dropped to his knees. "Oh please forgive us!" he begged. "I can explain everything! It wasn't my fault. It was a mistake! It was a miscalculation! It was an anomaly!" 

He fell silent looking up at her with big, pleading brown eyes.

"Aw, Chip." Gadget said smiling kindly at him. "Not good enough. Grab 'em, girls. And remember, I get first dibs on the Chipmunk with the Hawaiian shirt - I've had my eye on him for years! " 

The prisoners closed in. 

"Gadget, luv! Give a fella an even break! Don't we even deserve one last chance? To escape with our skins intact, at least?" 

The prisoners looked towards Gadget. 

Gadget considered the appeal. "Very well… I shall leave the decision to my right hand mouse." She decided. "Do what you think is best." She told a buxom brunette mouse next to her. "I shall be in my room." 

After Gadget left the brunette stepped forward and told them how it was. "Right boys, here's the deal. You each do an impression of a human being and if we all laugh, you can go." 

"Fair enough!" Dale declared and snagged Chip's hat right off his head. He placed the hat on his own head and with a couple of nervous gestures began to imitate Humphrey Bogart. "My name is Spade, Sam Spade. I'm here to tell you all about a case I just finished... it's a case of scotch. Not good scotch, the cheap stuff that bleaches your teeth when you drink it so that you save on toothpaste and brushes. In fact, what you save on toothpaste in one month alone would probably pay for another case of scotch, but then I always say it's worth paying a little extra for the good stuff... but if scotch doesn't interest you I could always tell you about this detective work I just did for a lady who just walked into my office and asked me to solve a crime for her. I was surprised. I'm an orthodontist."

The prisoners were falling around in laughter. Gadget's right hand mouse could barely keep the tears from her eyes. "Ouch, my sides!" She exclaimed. "It is to laugh!" Shaking her head the brunette waved Dale away from the other Rangers. "Okay, you can go. Show him our leader's private quarters, Doreen." 

Both Dale and the huge grey rat called Doreen looked at the brunette in shock. 

"Her quarters. The nice double cell she has all to herself. Where she sleeps. What did you think I meant?" The brunette looked at them indignantly. 

"Um, nothing." The grey rat said. Fixing Dale with a stern look, Doreen crooked her finger. Her meaning was clear – Come Here. 

Dale gulped loudly and, with a last look at the others, followed Doreen to places unknown. 

"Your turn, tubby!" The brunette snarled and jabbed a bony finger at Monty. 

Monty frowned for a moment and then dug around in his pockets in the hope of finding inspiration. He came up with a pair of reading glasses that he didn't like to admit needing and a false beard that he had used to disguise himself several cases ago. Monty put on both and began singing in rough, Australian voice.

"Sun-er-rise! Early In The Morning! Sun-er-rise! Early In The Morning! Sun-er-rise, be blooming strange at any other time of day! Tie me Kangeroo Down Sport, Tie Me Kangeroo Down, cause otherwise it keeps running away... I think it's scared of my beard... or maybe I'm just not the right species for it. Can you tell who I am yet?"

The crowd of prisoners, perhaps primed by Dale's performance, responded warmly. 

"It's Rolf Harris!" Monty told them. "I know he's not been seen much recently. I think he's hiding. With an act like this one, I don't blame him. What do you think?"

"I think you can go. Next!" the brunette announced. 

Monty made his way after Dale and Chip found himself being stared at by everyone who was left in the room, which meant the rioting inmates and Zipper. 

"Uh… I haven't thought of anything yet. Can Zipper go first?" Chip asked. 

"Who?" The brunette seemed puzzled.

"Zipper, the housefly hero? Surely Gadget mentioned him. He's right here." Chip gestured to where Zipper was crawling up a wall.

The brunette looked at him as though he was mad. "That's just an ordinary fly." 

"No, he's one of us, honest. Zipper, tell them who you are." 

Zipper stopped crawling up the wall and stood up straight, though in this case that meant his body was horizontal. Placing one hand behind his back and one hand delicately to his chest, he held his head high and spoke more clearly than Chip had ever heard him speak before. 

"Ah, buzz. Ah say, buzz." 

It was an almost perfect imitation of Tex Avery's Foghorn Leghorn voice. 

All the prisoners looked at Chip. 

"Sounds like a normal fly to me." The brunette said. 

Chip's jaw hung open as he lamely pointed to the fly. Hadn't they heard? But they were remorseless and Chip could sense something inevitable about the course of events. 

"You're stalling!" The brunette scowled. "That means you haven't got an impression! Get him girls!"

"**CHARGE!**" The prisoners roared as they ran towards Chip with razors and shaving brushes brandished in their hands. 

Chip squeaked in alarm.

107

"Chip, ol' buddy? You awake now?" Dale's familiar face was hanging over him. 

Chip swallowed and noticed an unfamiliar chocolaty taste in his mouth. He was just smacking his lips and wondering where it had come from when he noticed the sun was lower than it had been a moment ago. After a puzzled moment, he remembered the "A" frame falling towards him. He made a quick inventory of all his body parts and was relieved to find them all accounted for, except for the appendix, which he had been relieved of some years before. 

"What happened?" he asked. Ordinarily, he would consider the question redundant and just let whoever had woken him fill him in on the details in their own time, but Dale needed things spelling out. 

"You got hit on the head. It knocked you out." Dale explained. 

Chip considered this answer. Patiently, he tried again. "No, after that." 

"Oh, it's alright. The foreman turned out to have a pretty good idea of how to get things done, once we found your notebook with which timber was on which. We got all the victims out alive, when we handed them over to the medical people, at least. Not all of them were in one piece, but they were alive…" 

"Is he still around? The foreman, I mean." 

"No, he went to hospital with one of the victims. His brother, I think." 

"We ought to see about giving a statement to the press." Chip said, trying to go down the list of things he would normally be looking after. 

"Oh, don't worry about them. They were here earlier. Even took photos." 

Chip's eyes widened in alarm. "You kept them away from the victims, didn't you? The relatives won't want to see-" 

"It's okay, Chip. After they took a shot of me giving you mouth to mouth resuscitation they said they didn't need any other photos." Dale tried to reassure him. 

Chip nearly had a heart attack. 

108

Lawhiney let Tammy wring out her hair and then shook it. The smell of hair dye and wet mouse would have been noticeable even to someone with a human sense of smell and it filled the Ranger's bathroom. They could have opened the window for fresh air but when you have to worry about gigantic wild animals hunting by scent and finding out where you live, you just learn not to take chances like that. 

"Of course, I never believed a word of it." Tammy said. "All the kids at high school were swapping the rumours and asking me what I thought but I told them, Chip is a great detective. There's no way anyone could get away with anything around him." 

Lawhiney cocked an eyebrow in Tammy's direction but since the teenager was standing behind her right shoulder it was unlikely Tammy saw it. Lawhiney had guessed fairly quickly that the redheaded youngster had a teenage crush on Chip. She was less certain how that left things between Tammy and the real Gadget. It mattered, because here she was pretending to be friends with everyone in the room and for all she knew the real Gadget hated these people, pretended to like them in public and only barely tolerated them in private. 

Friends, she had belatedly realised, would be easy to fool, compared to Gadget's enemies. 

"Changing the subject to something other than Chip, yet again," Tammy's mother said pointedly, "do you remember the time that mad scientist you keep running into tried to build a machine that could throw lightening by stroking cats?" 

"Um… Sort of." Lawhiney fudged. It sounded vaguely possible, based on what she had heard and read about the rangers' cases when Pierre was coaching for her role as Gadget. 

"You must remember dear, it was the first time you all got in the newspapers. Because you insisted on helping the cats and everyone said it was wrong for a mouse to help a cat." Mrs Squirrel couldn't help but sound a little worried that Gadget could forget something so important.

"I remember that." Lawhiney rushed to reassure her. She did, in a way. Pierre had raided a reference library for old Ranger newspaper clippings so that she could study her role as Gadget Hackwrench. The controversy had raged for weeks until the Council of Cats came forward and added their weight to an agreement that let volunteer crisis groups help anyone in danger, under any circumstances. "I just don't remember which time it was, we run into mad scientists so often." 

There was a knock at the door. 

"Who is it?"  

Sparky opened the bathroom door and put his head round. "We were hoping you would know!" he said in a totally bewildered tone. 

Lawhiney hadn't made up her mind about Sparky yet. She had a feeling that Sparky would behave as though he was mostly clueless until suddenly, for want of a more interesting intellectual challenge, he'd actually think about something she'd said and blow her out of the water. She preferred them big and muscular and best of all _completely_ clueless. The smart ones, for some reason, usually weren't bright enough to look after themselves and tended to get all over emotional when they finally realised you were just playing with their heads. Hearts, she meant hearts. She hated it when she got those two mixed up. 

"Sparky, I didn't say come in." Lawhiney said pointedly. 

"You didn't?" Sparky blinked and his eyes glazed as he tried to replay the last five seconds in his head, unsuccessfully. 

"Sparky, do you even remember why you were knocking on the door?" Tammy sighed in exasperation. 

"Do I…? Oh, of course. There's a mouse here we don't know. She says that she's an old friend of yours." 

"Party crasher, huh?" Lawhiney sighed. Party crasher at best, genuine old friend at worst, and everyone would expect her to identify the unexpected guest as one way or the other. "Lord, help me." 

The Guide was instantly by her side. 

"He has, repeatedly, and you still have to pay your tab." He hissed into her ear. 

"Ahh!" Lawhiney started, to the alarm of the others in the room.

"My dear!" Mrs Squirrel said. "Are you quite all right? You look as if you had seen a ghost." 

"Fine." Lawhiney croaked. The last thing I need is for them to think I'm seeing things – she thought – if they think I'm loopy they'll never take their eyes off me! "Lead me to this gatecrasher. If she's not who she claims to be, I'll soon make her regret it!" 

"This I'm looking forward to! The great phoney herself is going to give a lecture on the morality of misrepresentation." The Guide cocked an eyebrow and smiled wryly at her. "Just remember – be careful about saying what you think frauds and impostors deserve while you're out there. The Powers That Be may just be in the mood to take suggestions!" 

"Thanks." Lawhiney told him under the guise of thanking Tammy for pushing her wheel chair. "I sure hope that my busted up memory runs to remembering whoever is out there. I wouldn't want to ruin a friendship because of a little forgetfulness." 

They pushed Lawhiney's chair into the living room.

"You're not blackmailing me into helping you get away with fraud." The Guide retorted. "You can bluff it out with whoever's in the front room on your own, by playing twenty questions until you guess whether they're a fake or a friend. And you'd just better hope the twelve or thirteen people in the front room don't catch on to what you're doing, or you'll be the one getting the morality lecture!" 

Standing half way to the still open front door was a beautiful young mouse-lady with fine white fur and striking blue eyes. She was about the same age as Gadget, Lawhiney noted, and she wore her collar length hair with a crisp perm. Her light yellow dress was inexpensive but pretty and complemented the small gold locket she wore around her neck. Her pair of white pumps looked as though they could go with anything and had done – they weren't just worn on her feet, they were well worn. 

"Jennifer!" The Guide gasped. 

Lawhiney smiled while carefully not looking in his direction. The Lord, or rather his hired hand, was helping her after all, whether he was meant to or not. "Jennifer? The sun is in my eyes, is that you?" 

"Of course it's me!" Jennifer Talbert-Hall replied; her embarrassment mixed with relief. "Gadget, they didn't tell my you were in a wheelchair. Are you… going to be all right?" 

Lawhiney resisted the temptation to belt the stranger in the mouth for even raising the possibility. She was about to affirm that she was when it struck her that she didn't know. In the visions the Guide had shown her, Lawhiney had only seen herself lying in bed. Surely the Guide would have said if she wasn't going to walk again? But no, he wanted her to confess because she thought it was the right thing to do, not because he had told her that there was definitely, absolutely, no chance at all of her getting out from under this. 

It was possible that she might never walk again and the full horrible possibility of a lifetime as an invalid – and in prison – hit her abruptly.

Seeing "Gadget" suddenly look horror struck and slump everyone started towards Lawhiney. Apart from Tammy who was directly behind her, Jen was the closest. She ran to Lawhiney and knelt beside her, then rested one hand on her knee. Lawhiney gawked at it.

"There now, look what I've gone and done. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." 

Lawhiney looked up, numbly, and was shocked to see tears in the clear blue eyes of this total stranger. "It's all right." She whispered and reached out on a childish impulse to brush one of the tears away. "I'll be fine." Then she blinked and suddenly came back to her senses. "Uh, my memory is a little hazy what with all the painkillers and the head injury. When was the last time I saw you?" 

"Well, the day of the crash, of course! You mean you don't remember?" Jen looked at "Gadget" in dismay. 

"Uh… no. That whole day is a little foggy for me." 

"That's sort of why I came…" Jen admitted. "I brought back some of your stuff." 

Stuff? She brought stuff too? No, wait, she didn't know this was a party – she couldn't have or she'd wouldn't be wearing old shoes and a second best dress. And she said it's already mine, she's bringing it back – Oh Sweet *@#^!!! How close is she to the real Gadget? If it's _that_ close is it supposed to be a secret?

"Thank you." Lawhiney squeaked. 

Jen smiled at her and put her holdall on the floor in front of Lawhiney. It was unbuttoned at one end – zips are too big and chunky for mice to use – as though she had half undone it to show the guests that she did indeed possess Gadget related articles to return. 

Lawhiney could see the sleeve of an overall poking out at her like a tongue. Beneath that, she could just make out something made of white cotton, underwear perhaps, peeping at her from inside the bag. 

Oh God. 

The implications circled in Lawhiney's head like farm implements spinning in a tornado. 

"Sorry, I'm terribly absent minded at the moment. Everyone, this is Jennifer." Lawhiney waved an arm at the guests like a drowning swimmer. In desperation she snuck a look at the Guide.

The Guide looked sideways at her through twinkling blue eyes. He was crouched over with one hand on his own knee, beside himself with suppressed laughter. 

Oh. 

"Jen's just about the oldest friend I've got, everybody." She said, rolling her eyes.

"Unless you stayed in contact with someone from kindergarten." Jen smiled. "Known each other, must be twenty years, on and off. Of course, it's probably just a couple of years if you total up all the time we've actually spent together. Or all the time we've spent on the same continent, even. Are you sure you're all right, Gadget? You don't look right. You have bags under your eyes and your ears are different." 

Lawhiney had been so relieved that she had guessed Jen's relationship to Gadget correctly that she had forgotten this might be the one person on earth outside immediate family who could actually spot her as a fraud. 

"Tammy was just giving me a make over." Lawhiney said and suddenly worried that her impersonation of Gadget's voice was slipping. With any luck this walking nightmare in a cheap dress wouldn't notice – Jen's accent was something euro-trashy, anyway. English perhaps, Lawhiney thought, but not like Pierre's. 

"What's up with your voice? They didn't try and strangle you into the bargain, did they?" Jen's voice was filled with genuine concern. 

"As part of the robbery, or as part of the make over? I've had a cold and the painkillers are lowering it a bit, I think. How are you, Jen? You look a bit haggard yourself." Lawhiney did her best to hold the claws in. Think Gadget! She berated herself. 

Jen looked surprised. "You don't normally notice how I look!"

That's right. Gadget was absentminded on an Olympic scale and almost never showed an interest in anything but machines. Lawhiney was suddenly amazed there had been any old friends to show up. "Sorry. Look, I'm half way through a makeover after being released from hospital today. Would you like to help out?"  

"Another one? I guess the one I gave you didn't stand up to being hijacked too well, huh?" Jen smiled.

Lawhiney gulped. "You gave me a makeover that day?" She asked before she could stop herself. She was closer to being discovered than she had been since the Museum Robbery. 

"Yes! You don't remember anything from that day?" 

"Oohh! Gadget, you had a makeover the day of the crash. That explains why you came over all funny just after Sparky came to tell you Jen was here. You had a flashback, didn't you?" Tammy squealed.  

"Um, well, possibly." Lawhiney couldn't decide whether she wanted everyone's sympathy, or everyone to not watch her like a hawk so they could be the first to spot her next flashback. 

"I certainly never meant to make you feel worse by coming here!" Jen stood, as if she was considering leaving. 

Lawhiney leaned over and patted her hand. "Don't worry, Jen. We're practically sisters!" she smiled, not realising how close she had come to hitting the nail on the head. 

"Oh brother!" The Guide slapped his forehead. "How lucky can you get?" 

"Why don't you come and help with this makeover? We can talk about old times." Lawhiney offered. Well you can, anyway, Lawhiney added mentally. I'll just stay quiet and gather some more ammunition in case someone asks me to prove I'm Gadget Hackwrench.

"Sure. Actually, I came over because of your visit that day." Jen smiled. "You left the Ranger Skate parked in a loading bay under the grocery store half a block away from my flat. The owner turned a blind eye at first, because of all the trouble in the papers, but they had to move it eventually because it was in the way. The next thing is, they realise a couple of weeks have gone by and no one has claimed it. They didn't want to call the Street Watch because they'd already moved it without permission and it looks official with your logos up on the side of it. They tried calling here, but your homemade answer-phone is out again." 

Lawhiney didn't want Jen talking about little details like where Gadget had left the Ranger Skate. The conversation could easily turn a corner and leave Lawhiney trapped in a blind alley. 

"I'll try and find time to fix it." She promised. "And I'll send someone to pick the skate up." 

"Oh, um. No need." Jen gulped guiltily. "I hope I'm not going to be in any trouble but, uh, I… drove the skate here to save time." She looked nervously at Gadget as if slightly awed by her own daring. 

Lawhiney realised she was being asked for approval and liked it. She was deciding whether she had more to gain by granting or withholding it, when Jen rushed on. 

"I had to come here to drop off your things anyway and I've been desperate for news since the papers stopped talking about you. No one's willing to repeat anything they hear about you since you foiled the museum robbery, in case they're accused of spreading untruthful rumours."  Jen smiled at what she thought was her best friend. "Oh, Gadget. It's so good to see you." 

Placing an arm about Jen's shoulders in a one armed hug, Lawhiney smiled at the Guide. "Good to see you, too, my oldest, dearest friend." 

109

Chip scowled the whole way back to Ranger Headquarters. One of the enthusiastic but inexperienced first aid volunteers, who had been given minor injuries to tend in order to keep them out of the way, had bandaged his head. 

Now his hat didn't fit. 

He was holding the beloved fedora in his hand. It looked battered. So did he. He had endured a rough couple of weeks, he reflected. 

In the space of fourteen days he had been all over the state by every kind of transport known to thinking non-human mammal, nearly run over by a train, flown through a thunderstorm on the back of a crow, caught a head cold, broken his nose chasing a kidnapper, had the kiss of life from a frog, jumped through the roof of an elevator car, fought a dangerous criminal, been nearly brained in the middle of a rescue operation and had his best friend give him the kiss of life in front of the "gentlemen" of the press. It was about time that he took a long break. 

They'd told him to see a qualified doctor as soon as possible. He'd see the Rangers usual doctor tomorrow and tell the others that he was taking a week off as soon as he got back, unless the doctor advised more. It would give him the time to spend with… Gadget?

His nightmare came back at him in a rush. 

Gadget the victim of an insane injustice, a prisoner in the worst dungeon the law could provide; degraded and abused, abandoned by those who loved – who _cared_ about her – until she could stand it no longer and turned her back on her past. 

Chip shivered with horror at the thought. Surely there could be nothing worse?

The memory of Gadget's voice in his dream came back to him: "_Remember, I get first dibs on the Chipmunk with the Hawaiian shirt - I've had my eye on him for years!"_  

The detective let out a low moan. Of course there could. There was always something worse. And if it wasn't the thought of Gadget secretly harbouring a crush on Dale for years then it was the thought of Chip Maplewood, Detective, blindly nursing an impostor back to health while Gadget was locked away in a hard and darkened place where only the corrupt, the jaded, the guilty and the despised belonged. 

"Chip? You okay?" Dale asked, looking over at him with concern.

"Fine." Chip replied automatically. At that moment he was far from fine. He knew only two things for fact; he would not be taking any time off in the next week, no matter what he told the other rangers, and that he would have to know the true name of the girl in Shrankshaw Prison before he could sleep well again.  


	17. Catfight, uh, mousefight, mousefight!

**_Disclaimer_**

In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone…  except a certain kind of lawyer.

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Catfight, uh, mouse-fight, mouse-fight! **

110

"I hope that rotten good for nothing impostor is enjoying herself." Gadget slurred as Molly and Bubbles helped her back to her cell. "'Cause when I catch up with her, it isn't going to any fun for her at all." 

"Yeah, try and hold that thought." Bubbles agreed. "Of course, you're going to be about forty-five by then and I expect she'll be married and living in a big house. First thing she'll do after you ruin her fun is call the nearest vigilante gang and they'll bring your scrawny tail straight back here. You'll be behind bars when you're older than Darla if you start thinking like that." 

"Darla. Now Darla's nice. And Shelly seemed okay. Molly reminded me of Monty. I bet she doesn't take any nonsense from anybody." 

"That's right, so you better not give her any, or you'll find out what she does when someone does give her nonsense." Bubbles told her. "You might be used to dealing with a lot of nice tame males who are too well brought up to hit a pretty girl but Molly's got a right hook like a prize fighter and her using it on you is no different from one male slugging another. And you do know how little it takes for guys to do that, and how hard they can hit each other, right?"

Gadget thought about Chip and Dale and the last argument she had seen them have. Dale had passed her a spoon for her morning half a grape with lemon juice. She had smiled and thanked him. Before she had swallowed the first mouthful the two chipmunks were rolling around on the kitchen floor, fighting over whose turn it was to wash up. In the end she had declared that she would do it, simply to keep the peace. 

Bubbles watched her expression and read it like an open book; a large print open book at that. "Yeah, I figured a pretty girl like you would have seen a few guys fight." 

"They don't fight over me." Gadget was in denial. 

"Whenever two guys fight in front of a woman it's because of her. Even when the trouble starts over something else, it ends up with fighting because neither one wants to back down in front of a good-looking girl. Something below the waist thinks a girl's less likely to hitch up with the one who backs down." Bubbles disillusioned her.

"Chip and Dale would fight less without me?" 

"Red! Sheesh, you've got to get a grip, girl. Remember what you promised? No more pretending to be Gadget Hackwrench?"

"Who says she's pretending?" Asked a smug, self-satisfied voice. 

Both Bubbles and Gadget turned slowly towards the speaker. It was Roxie, the white mouse. As she stepped out of the side corridor she had been standing in, two large rats slid out of the shadows behind her. All had evil smiles. 

"Heard about your little party, girls. Guess my invite got lost in the mail, huh? Never mind. I got better things to do than watch the twins play pattycake with each other, anyway." Roxie sneered. 

"Roxie! What do you want?" Bubbles demanded, her tone belligerent with Dutch courage. 

Roxie was surprised. She hadn't expected an old hand like Bubbles McGee to stick by a lost cause like the redhead against such overwhelming odds. "What do I want? Well, gee, McGee, I just want to satisfy my curiosity. See, some of us were wondering, what if, just maybe, she's the real deal?" 

"Are you insane?" Bubbles demanded. 

"Hey, what if someone on the outside really had it in for her? I mean _really_ had it in for her. Wouldn't the best way to really stick it to a crime-fighter be to turn her into a criminal? To put her in a place like this? To make her one of us, when she's spent her whole life thinking she's better than us?" Roxie was in full swing now. She advanced on Red – on Gadget – mercilessly. 

"I'm not a crime-fighter!" Gadget objected (truthfully, in her own opinion). "The Rangers are a search and rescue organisation, not a law enforcement agency. That's why we're called Rescue Rangers. We only fight criminals when our work brings us into conflict with them." 

"Oh, Red! You're hopeless!" Bubbles sighed. 

"I'll say she is!" smirked Roxie. "Notice she doesn't deny thinking she's better than you!" 

"Red doesn't think she's better than us!" Bubbles snapped back. "Red, tell her-" 

Bubbles broke off. 

Gadget was standing stock still halfway between Bubbles and Roxie, staring thoughtfully off into space with one crocked finger hanging from her lower lip. She seemed unaware of her surroundings, as if entirely absorbed by some internal conflict.

"You do think you're better than me, don't you?" Bubbles asked softly, her voice somewhere between disbelief and disappointment. 

Gadget did not answer; she was still lost in her own thoughts.

In the heartbeat or so that Gadget had devoted herself to answering her friend's very simple question, Roxie had stepped in close to her. Now Roxie almost lazily slapped Gadget across the face with the back of her hand. The blow was not as hard as it might have been, but it was enough to force Gadget's attention to more material problems. 

"I didn't do anything to you." Gadget said. 

Roxie's hard blue eyes blinked at Gadget. Gadget continued to stare directly into them, both in reproof and in hope that Roxie would back down. She didn't. 

"Yeah, you did." Roxie said. "You got me drenched in sewage water and then you got me knocked on to my tail and then you kept me awake the whole first night here with your non-stop whining and every time it's because you can't keep your smart little mouth shut."

Roxie grabbed Gadget's face and then squeezed her mouth into an artificial pout. Gadget tried to twist away but Roxie followed her every move. 

"How am I going to teach you to keep that mouth shut? Put something nasty in it, perhaps? Or show you how to put it to better use?" Roxie taunted. 

Furious, Gadget raised a fist to punch the bully in the face. One of the rats Roxie had brought with her had worked her way around to stand behind Gadget. The rat immediately grabbed the fist and used it to lift Gadget completely off the ground. 

Gadget gasped. It felt like her arm had been wrenched out of its socket. She was unprepared when Roxie punched her in the stomach, which was now at the same level as Roxie's shoulder. 

"Leave her alone! She's not well!" Bubbles lunged forward to help but the other rat grabbed her by the tail and swung her against a wall. 

Roxie glanced approvingly towards the violence then leisurely turned back to Gadget with a smile. 

Gadget kicked her in the face, hard enough to make her topple backwards. 

The rat holding Gadget growled. Gadget cut the growl off by twisting her body round until she was in position to bury her elbow in the rat's throat. The rat gasped and dropped Gadget to the floor. 

Gadget landed on all fours. She took careful aim and shot back a foot to kick the rat in the knee. 

The rat choked with pain and fell over.

Bubbles slumped against the wall she had collided with. 

The rat that had dealt with Bubbles was still holding onto Bubbles's tail, but the rat's attention was on "Red". 

Tiny "Red", half the size of the rat she had just reduced to a ball of pain. Well, she had knees and a throat too, thought the second rat. 

The rat took a step forward. 

Gadget, still on all fours, nonetheless managed to crouch. She glared at the rat, anger rolling around behind her eyes like hot oil. 

The rat took another step forward. She still held Bubbles by the tail and dragged her across the floor without realising. Gadget watched the rat across the hall take another confident step forward, heard the rat behind her begin to stir, and decided to strike while she could. 

Roxie lay on her side, with a dumbfounded expression, halfway between Gadget and Bubbles's rat. It hadn't occurred to her that "Red" could be dangerous. She couldn't see Bubbles or the rat that was still standing, so when Gadget tensed her body and prepared to spring forward Roxie assumed she was the intended victim. 

Roxie reached into her prison overalls and pulled out an ugly looking knife made out of a razor blade and a chicken bone. She slashed at Gadget from the ground.  

Gadget barely saw the blade at all – it had already slashed through the left thigh of her prison uniform by the time it entered her field of vision. More by reflex than judgement she threw herself upwards and sideways like a startled cat. 

Roxie pulled herself up on to her feet and glanced sideways to see the downed rat climb to her feet again. Her confidence returned, along with the nasty smile. 

Gadget backed down a corridor with the two rats in front of her, spearheaded by the armed Roxie. 

The rat on the left was limping from the injured knee. The one of the right was still dragging Bubbles. Both were slower than Roxie. As Gadget continued to back away the gap between Roxie and the rats slowly widened. 

Bubbles began to shake off her daze, noisily, by swearing. Gadget took note before the rat holding Bubbles's tail did. 

Bubbles sat up and sank her teeth into the right buttock of her rat. She was rewarded with a loud shriek. 

The limping rat looked over, distracted.

Gadget made the best use she could out of the opportunity and threw herself at Roxie. The buzz of homebrew racing around her veins made Gadget less frightened than she should have been. 

Roxie slashed at Gadget.

Gadget was expecting it and intercepted the blow using a trick Monty and her father had shown her long ago. The knife was in Roxie's right hand. Gadget sidestepped to her left and blocked the swiping blade by grabbing Roxie's knife arm at the elbow. Then Gadget brought her right hand up from under and locked her fingers around Roxie's wrist and twisted as hard as she could. It wasn't enough. Roxie didn't drop the knife. 

Still twisting Roxie's wrist, Gadget turned on her heel until she faced the same direction her attacker did. She threw her left leg in front of Roxie's right leg and forced the white mouse's arm forward and up, twisting until the knife was pointed to the floor. Roxie had no choice but to step forward and trip over Gadget's leg. 

Roxie's face slammed into the floor. 

Gadget released her grip on Roxie's arm, kicked the knife further along the corridor. Roxie lay stunned, face down. 

Elated, Gadget turned through a full circle to face the two rats and planted her heel on the back of Roxie's neck for good measure. 

The two rats were trying to prise Bubbles's teeth off the buttock of the unfortunate rat that Bubbles had bitten. If they tried much harder, it was entirely possible that Bubbles's head would come off. Gadget considered her chances of taking down both the enraged rats before they could dismember her friend. They weren't good. She would need an edge… and unfortunately she had just kicked the only available edge half way down the hall. 

Drunk, angry and frightened now, Gadget ran to fetch the knife, treading on the back of Roxie's head with her full weight on the way. 

In the dingy light the grey razor blade of Roxie's homemade knife was almost invisible against the concrete floor. Only the chicken-bone-white of the handle showed up, and Gadget was grateful it wasn't the other way round as she snatched at it and skidded to a halt like a baseball player sliding home. 

"Just what do you think you're going to do with that, dearie?" Roxie taunted softly from a safe distance. Behind her, Bubbles looked thoroughly defeated. One of the rats was holding Gadget's friend out at shoulder-level, a large hand almost entirely encircling Bubbles's neck. 

"You can't use that on me. They'll rip your friend apart." Roxie developed the theme. "Run for help and it's the same story. Won't be anyone left to bring help back to. Not to mention you might trip and have yourself a little accident if you go running around with such a sharp knife. No telling what that's cut in the past. Sure you want to be seen holding it? You might as well just give it back and take what's coming to you." 

Gadget's shoulders slumped as Roxie talked. Everything the white mouse was saying was true. Gadget's eyes darted to and fro as she searched for a way out but she couldn't think of one. The choice was to abandon Bubbles and save her self, or surrender to whatever Roxie had in mind and hope that she and Bubbles could both walk away afterwards. As a ranger, she had made the choice to risk her own life for the sake of others long ago. The knife almost fell from her hand.

"'Atta' girl." Roxie encouraged. "Maybe I won't take too much off the ears after all…"

It was like throwing a match on gasoline. 

Roxie had held out a hand when she asked for the knife. Gadget lunged and grabbed the hand and pulled on it with all her strength. Roxie stumbled. Suddenly Gadget was behind Roxie and the knife was at the white mouse's throat. 

"Alright." Gadget growled. "You two put Bubbles down or I'll be the one doing the trimming. A little off the top, for starters." 

"You aren't the type." Sneered the rat Bubbles had bitten. 

Gadget didn't speak. She simply scraped the blade against Roxie's skin and sent a snow flurry of shaved white fur scattering to the floor. Roxie whimpered. 

The rats exchanged a glance. "You wouldn't…" the bitten one said.

"From what I hear, it was what you had lined up for me." Gadget snapped. 

Roxie began babbling the word "no" over and over again. 

"We were just told to hold you down and stop Bubbles getting in the way." The rat holding Bubbles sniffed. "Nothing else." 

Bubbles had gone limp. Her eyes bulged frighteningly and her lips were nearly purple. 

"Let her go. Now!" Gadget hadn't noticed it, but her hand had started shaking. The blade scratched a jagged red line on bare patch of skin she had just shaved. 

Roxie whimpered. 

The two rats exchanged another look and shrugged at each other. The one holding Bubbles dropped her in a heap like a piece of dirty laundry. 

"Fair's fair. I let her go, you let Roxie go." The rat said.

Gadget smiled. She was catching on. "No."

"Whaa?" The bitten rat looked at her incredulously.

"I said no." Gadget replied. She felt like she was ahead of the learning curve here. "You can get lost or you can try and jump me but, I promise you, someone's going to get hurt if you do." Probably me, Gadget added in the privacy of her own head, but you can't be sure of that and somehow I don't think you like Roxie enough to chance it. 

"I could just pick her up by the throat again." The other rat said casually, with a nod to Bubbles.

From the floor, Bubbles made a weak bubbly noise. 

Gadget glared at the rats, her once innocent eyes hard and cold for perhaps the first time in her life. "Get out of here. Or else." 

The bitten rat took an angry step forward. Then voices came from the far end of the corridor. "There they are. Come on, you idle buggers!" 

It was Darla. From somewhere behind her, Molly could be heard muttering to herself, promising mayhem and destruction. The sound of running paws began to approach them. 

"We can deal with them." The bitten rat told her friend. "We're bigger than them."

"There are five of them. The nutcase holding Roxie makes six." The other rat proved she could count. 

"You want everyone to know we were run off by Darla and the crazy fresh fish?" The bitten rat was nursing her pride as well as the bite marks in her rump. 

"It's not worth it. Not for what Roxie offered us." The other one said. "You coming?" 

The bitten rat snorted at Gadget in contempt and turned away. She aimed a last kick at the prone Bubbles before she followed her friend. 

Gadget watched them leave. She noted that while the sound of her reinforcements was loud and nearby, they were also approaching at a speed that gave the rats time to debate their next course of action and then wonder away nonchalantly, as though they had simply got bored with waiting for their opposition to show up. She wondered if that was deliberate or if rescuing the "crazy fresh fish" wasn't important enough to merit running. 

Seeing her muscle desert her, Roxie collapsed. "I wasn't going to shave you! I promise!" she sobbed miserably. "I was only told to take a notch out of your ear so everyone would know the boss had marked you out for special attention."

"You mean someone _told_ you to do this? Who?" Gadget gripped Roxie by the ear and shook her roughly. "Who? I want answers!"

"Haggs. Please don't hurt me. Haggs." Gadget let go of Roxie's ear and allowed the inmate to slump onto her knees where she sobbed to herself. "I don't belong here. I didn't know what was in the bag. I don't want to be in prison. I'll be old when I get out."

It was only then that Gadget noticed that a half moon shape had been cut out of Roxie's ear. The cut looked recent, probably less than a week old. Someone had probably already put the white mouse through this ordeal and then told her to pass it on. 

Gadget felt a sudden pang of sympathy for the failed bully. Slowly she reached down and gently patted the white mouse on the shoulder; but the gesture that would have seemed natural, almost habit, two weeks ago seemed as foreign to her as a language she hadn't heard since childhood. A slight noise behind her reminded Gadget that she hadn't even checked on Bubbles yet. 

"Uh, Bubbles, are you going to be okay? Can you breathe?" Gadget asked guiltily. 

Bubbles growled something incomprehensible that was almost certainly a swearword. 

"What do you think we should do about her?" Gadget asked. She didn't like the idea of just leaving someone, even Roxie, curled up in a ball and sobbing, like a baby. 

"How about this for starters?" Bubbles grabbed Roxie's hair, pulled her head up and punched her in the face. 

111

After Bubbles had punched Roxie in the face several times, she had pulled the mouse-girl's tail with both hands. Gadget had heard the unmistakeable crunch of dislocated bone as Bubbles swung Roxie against the wall with all her strength. As Roxie had lain and whimpered for mercy Darla, Molly and the twins had surrounded her. Gadget had supported Bubbles, whose strength seemed entirely spent by her brief revenge. 

Gadget still held Roxie's knife in one hand. 

"You take her back to the cell, Red." Molly ordered. "We'll deal with this piece of trash." 

"She's beaten. She lost the fight. Isn't that enough?" Gadget appealed to them. 

Four pairs of hardened eyes looked at her. 

"No, it ain't." Molly replied. 

"Please, no?" Roxie begged Gadget.

"Haggs told her to do it. She's got a notch out her ear like the one Haggs has." Gadget said.

Roxie whimpered. 

Molly bent and grabbed Roxie by the wounded ear. "She's going to get worked over either way then. Haggs doesn't like it when someone lets her down and then rats her out." 

"But she doesn't have to be hurt by _us_." Gadget said. She could feel the eyes of someone close to her staring intently. It was Bubbles.

"Red, have you seen the state of me?" Bubbles asked gently. "I could have been killed. I don't want go through this again. If we do something to her because she tried to get rough with us and lost, then everyone else who might get rough will think twice about it. It's like advertising, see?" 

Gadget looked at Bubbles for a long time, like a child asking a parent for the world to be a better place than it was. Then, finally, Gadget knew what she had to say, even though she didn't want to admit it to herself. 

"She's like me." Gadget said. 

Molly snorted in derision. 

"No, really." Gadget pressed ahead. "You said yourselves I didn't belong in here. I don't. Roxie fell in love with someone who gave her a bag of stolen property and left her to wait for the cops while he ran out the back way. She was convicted for someone else's crime, just like I was. Bubbles, if I hadn't met you on the barge, if you hadn't befriended me on the barge and looked out for me, stopped me from making more mistakes than I did anyway, then maybe I'd be like her by now. Take away your influence on me, Bubbles, and Roxie there is about what you would have left."

Bubbles, still leaning heavily on Gadget's shoulder, looked like she was ready to pity somebody but it was impossible to say just who. "I'm hurt, Red. I'm hurt, I'm tired and _I'm_ your friend here, not her! I'm the one who took on a rat twice my size for you a few minutes ago. Do you remember that?" 

"I remember, Bubbles, I remember." Gadget whispered.

"You remember! You remember it the next time someone says that you think you're better than me and I ask you whether it's true!" Bubbles stormed. 

Gadget flushed guiltily. "I – I'm sorry, Bubbles. I swear I'll never think of myself as better than you again… but please, don't do anything that will force me to lower my opinion of myself to keep that promise!" 

Molly watched the sentimental exchange between the two friends with cool disapproval. As for the suggestion that Red had at some point considered herself better than Bubbles, who was seasoned and experienced and who had taken the little crackpot under her wing, Molly would keep a careful eye on Red from now on. If she saw any sign of it for herself then Molly would make it her business to straighten Red out. "If you two are done, I'd say it was time to do kick some tail here." The mole growled. 

Bubbles looked long into Gadget's eyes and then sighed. "Look, take Roxie somewhere quiet and teach her a lesson, but nothing that's going to stop her working tomorrow. She's got that to look forward to from Haggs, anyway."

"Great. That'll leave her more scared of Haggs than us and when Haggs tells her to try again, she'll be back with a couple more friends than she had this time." Darla sneered.  

Bubbles shrugged at Gadget as if to say: Well, I tried. What more do you want?

Gadget took a deep breath. "Look. Maybe she'll be more scared of Haggs than us. Maybe she _should_ be. But maybe she'll be grateful to us for not hurting her." 

"Oh please." Molly growled. " Right now that girl doesn't know what gratitude is, even if she did when she came in here. And why should she be more scared of Haggs than us? Because Haggs is a guard? It's two of us she tried to hurt, not two of them." 

"Because Haggs is the bad guy!" Gadget exclaimed. 

Everyone looked at her. 

She had briefly forgotten that she was talking to convicted criminals. For the first time in her life, Gadget wondered if she was having a blonde moment. "Well, I don't _think_ I'm a bad guy." She pointed out.

"Did you have earwax when the judge sentenced you, honey?" Molly demanded.

"Red, whatever you think she might have been before she arrived here, right now she's the person who tried to cut you up and have my head unscrewed when I tried to stop her. Now, in this situation you can be her friend or you can be mine. Are you hers or mine? Choose. Now."

"Yours." Gadget hung her head. "I'm yours."  

"Good. Now I'd like to go back to our cell and it would help if I had someone to lean on."

Gadget looked at the others for a moment and sighed deeply as she accepted some unpleasant facts. "You're going to do something horrible to her the moment I leave, aren't you?" 

Heads nodded in perfect time with each other. 

"Fine. Then I won't leave. Would one of you please help Bubbles back to her cell? She's not feeling well." Gadget decided.

Bubbles wearily grumbled something into Gadget's shoulder. 

Molly glared at Gadget. "Fine." She snapped. "You can watch. I told Bubbles you could use toughening up, anyway." 

"Remember what you said about Molly not taking any nonsense?" Bubbles said in a low voice directly into Gadget's ear. "If you're not careful, you'll be doing more than watching. You'll be a participant. Maybe even on the receiving end."

"You mean I need to be toughened up the way she toughened up?" Gadget, speaking to Molly, pointed at Roxie. "A while ago you were saying that I wasn't like her. Back at the party, you seemed to think that was a good thing." 

Molly seemed to regret her words. She sighed as she looked at Gadget and blinked slowly. "I do, honey. I guess you don't need any toughening, come to that. Figure you proved that when you picked up that knife." Molly nodded to the blade that was still hanging from Gadget's hand.

Gadget tightened her grip on the blade. She didn't want the knife but she wanted to avoid someone else having it more, even if it was one of her new friends…

Molly noted the gesture disapprovingly. "Like I said, you don't need to get any tougher, but you do need to learn who your friends are. See, even if we give in and you walk off into the sunset arm in arm with Roxie as your new best friend, tomorrow morning she's going to find herself nose to nose with Haggs again. Or nose to some part of Haggs' anatomy, if you get my meaning. Then she'll sell you out. You'll be back where you were five minutes ago, only without Bubbles or any other friends to watch your back.

"Now you stick around-" Molly continued "-and maybe after we've taught Roxie here a little lesson, you can try your angel of mercy routine again and this time we'll listen to you. Heck, we'll even let you act like you're rescuing her like Gadget Hackwrench would. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Red?"

Gadget counted to thirty before answering. It took her the length of time it took most people to swallow. Persuading her new friends that revenge was bad, or even unnecessary, seemed impossible and the worst of it was that they were just looking out for her. The important thing, she reminded herself, was to get the wretched Roxie out of this without injury. 

A new strategy was called for. 

"If I do something to teach her a lesson, will you let her walk away when I think she's had enough?" 

"You already think she's had enough." Molly said. "You expect us to just stand here and let her walk away after you slap her across the nose and tell her she's been a bad little mouseling?"

"Would you?" Gadget felt obliged to explore the possibility. 

"No." 

Gadget sighed. "Roxie, I want you to come over here and apologise to me and to Bubbles, for everything, and then I want you to promise that you won't do anything like this again." 

Dumbfounded Roxie looked from side to side for someone to countermand the order. When no one did, Roxie sniffled and crawled forward. She knelt in front of Gadget and spoke in a halting voice. "I – I'm… very sorry. I should – shouldn't have tried -" sniff, sob "– to hurt you, Red. And I'm sorry you were hurt –" she made a small choking sound "– Bubbles." Here Roxie began to sob. "I won't do it again; on my life, I won't. Please, may I go now?" 

"Sure." 

Everyone gaped at her. 

"What do you think this is? Some children's story?" Darla complained in a hushed, slightly awed voice. 

Gadget looked from face to face in the hope of seeing something like support. Finally she even looked to Roxie looking for an agreement. Roxie looked as if someone had just stepped out of the shadows and told her she was on Candid Camera. Gadget was vaguely aware of some rapid movement to her left and glanced across in time to see Bubbles making indistinct gestures at her own head. 

Before Gadget could say anything to Bubbles, Molly spoke up and distracted her. "Okay, Red. You brought Roxie down, I guess you ought to have a say in what happens to her."

Gadget brightened. "You mean it?"

Molly made a slow sweeping gesture to the others to indicate they should be silent. "Sure. You win. You've made your point. Anything to stop the sermon..." 

"Unbelievable, I almost get killed and you guys want to let her off with a warning." Bubbles slapped her forehead. "I can't believe I have to stand here listening to this." 

"It's the right thing to do, Bubbles. You'll see." Gadget was eager to jolly her along. 

"I feel faint." Bubbles grumbled. And suddenly her legs failed her. It was only for an instant but it was dramatic enough to stop Gadget questioning Molly any further. 

"I'll take you back to your cell." Gadget said as soon as she was sure she could take the extra weight. 

"Our cell, Red. Do you remember the way?" Bubbles reminded her.  

"Our cell. No. I don't. I think Darla's homebrew is fogging up my memory." Gadget admitted. 

"I'll guide the way." Bubbles told her, smiling bravely. Gadget didn't see the wink Bubbles threw over her shoulder to her friends. 

Almost forgotten in the wake of Gadget and Bubbles exit, Roxie also began to shuffle away on her paws and knees. She didn't get very far before she discovered that Molly was standing on her tail. The white mouse looked back at the foreboding expression on Molly's face. 

"Red said I could go." Roxie whined in a plaintive voice. 

"Red was mistaken." Molly's voice was as final as a cell door closing. "Now, where were we?" 

112

Bubbles lay on her bed in her cell. 

The mattress was hard and it was infested with fleas and possibly with lice as well, but Bubbles was used to it. Sometimes when she woke in the morning she couldn't remember which sentence she was serving, but when her feet searched for the ground and she found herself in the top bunk she knew this was _her_ cell, not the pokey little box where she had been locked up with the rat mugger and the gecko housebreaker for two years when she was just twenty years old. Technically this cell was Red's cell too, Bubbles mused, but since Red had spent less than an hour in it since they both arrived in the prison she couldn't really have any claim on it. 

Rubbing her neck with one hand, Bubbles allowed the effect of Darla's homebrew to seep away over the next few hours. Her thoughts wondered over memories of the past day like a bored child idling through a museum. "Red" was in the bunk below her. That was as it should be, Bubbles thought. Red was a first timer, inexperienced in the ways of inmates and guards, however fast a learner she was. Red was weak in the head to the point where she thought she was someone else and could be childishly naïve into the bargain. So Red should be the one who got the lower bunk and the decision of whether to lay with her head at the end of the bed next to the bars or the toilet. 

Apart from the smell, sleeping with your head at the toilet end of the bunk meant that when someone used the toilet their behind was only a hand span away from your face. Mercifully, in a ladies prison, you didn't have to worry about splashes. The end close to the bars was the obvious choice and the one most prisoners used most nights… but at night the guards ran their clubs along bars to wake the prisoners. The guards did this partly out of boredom, partly to check that none of the prisoners had left manikins in their beds while they tunnelled under the walls and partly out of petty sadism.

Red was sleeping with her head against the bars. It wouldn't be night properly for another three hours but when you were this deep underground it didn't make much difference. Bubbles suspected that Red was smiling as she slept, convinced that she had done good this afternoon. The thought made Bubbles smile too, kindly. Red was difficult to dislike, no matter how inconvenient she could be. 

"Red?" Bubbles said even though she knew Red was asleep. Again, a little louder: "Red?" 

Red grumbled in her sleep. 

One last try then. "RED!" 

"Uh, wha- garfungle?" 

"Red, are you awake?" Bubbles asked casually. 

"Uh, yeah." Red sounded bleary. 

"About when Roxie said you thought you were better than me. Why didn't you just deny it, no matter what you really thought? I mean, I could have just walked away when you didn't and left you to deal with Roxie and her rats on your own." Bubbles had rolled over on her belly and leaned over the edge of the bunk to see Red's expression. 

Gadget frowned. Her clear blue eyes met Bubbles. "I'm sorry about that. I'm not better than you." 

"I know. You told me after the fight. Not that I need to be told when someone's not better than me. That's not what I asked." 

"Oh." Gadget thought about the question Bubbles had asked. "I hadn't thought about it until Roxie brought it up. I mean, well, to tell the truth, I like you. I mean, I shouldn't be here, because I'm innocent, and you're a self-confessed thief. But I like you. You're friendly. You could probably be a good person if you put your mind to it." 

"I am a good person." Snarled Bubbles. 

"You're a thief. You told me yourself. That doesn't fit in with being a good person." 

"It depends what you steal. And why you steal it." Bubbles snapped. 

"Why comes into how bad it is, how easy it is to forgive someone for what they've done. It's still wrong." 

"What about holding a knife to someone's throat. Is that wrong?" Bubbles put in.

"Yes." 

"You put a knife to Roxie's throat." 

"Yes." 

"Well?" 

"I did it to save you." 

"And that makes it right, which makes you good person, which means I can be a good thief. I mean a good person and a thief." Bubbles spoke with almost scientific certainty. She turned over onto her back and looked at the ceiling. The cell's previous occupant had left behind some graffiti of a lurid and artistic nature. Bubbles smiled at it and briefly missed having the cell to her self. 

There was a pause. Then from below: "It was wrong of me to put the knife to her throat." 

Bubbles hooded her eyes and pursed her lips. "Are you saying that if you had it over, you would have run and left me to take my chances?"

"No. I'd do the same if I had it over. But it was still wrong. A… sin." The word seemed strange in Gadget's mouth. 

Gadget's religious education had been eccentric. She had counted Buddhist monks and Catholic nuns amongst her childhood babysitters. She had never belonged to any religion herself, though all pilots are of the same religion when the weather turns against them. She frowned as she considered her current status. She was used to operating from a position of absolute moral certainty. 

"So you're not a good person? Is that what you're telling me?" 

There was long pause. 

"Because you did something to save a friend's life? That makes you a bad person?"

"I couldn't find a way of doing it that didn't involve breaking the rules. That makes me… I don't know. Flawed, I guess; imperfect, like everyone else. I did wrong holding the knife to Roxie's throat, but I think I can live with it." 

"I told you I was going to put my kids through college with my share." Bubbles said.

"There are other ways to put your kids through college. They could even work their own way through college. They might even decide they don't want college degrees." 

"It's all I know. But it's not all my kids are going to know. And I can still do it, too. I know where my cut is hidden – I had time to do that before some smart-alecky detective worked out I was involved with the robbery. You have no idea just how gracious I'm being about your Rescue Ranger fixation. You might not be the real Gadget Hackwrench but there are a lot of people who would get satisfaction from pummelling the closest thing to Gadget Hackwrench they can find. If I can get out of here, or find someone I can trust who can get to my stash, then my kids will be fed and clothed and educated. That's almost worth fifteen years in here. Assuming I can avoid telling Haggs where my stash is." 

Gadget spent a few moments thinking about moral certainty and life without it. She brought out her moral calculus and found the imaginary numbers were all blurred. Then she made a decision. "I'm not going to be here long." She said. "I know you don't believe it but, when they work out who I am, they will let me out of here. If you tell me where your stash is, I won't betray you. I'll see that your kids get your share." 

There was another long silence. 

"I believe you would. Thanks. I'll think about it." Bubbles said. 

Bubbles was prepared to let that be the end of the conversation, but Gadget wanted to know something. "Bubbles?" 

"Yes?" 

Gadget wanted to ask badly but couldn't think of a tactful way to phrase it.

"What?" Bubbles demanded impatiently. 

"You're going to be behind bars for fifteen years and you just… accept it so well. I'm just having trouble getting my head round how you can do that. I mean I'd expect anyone to just be in denial, or shock, or planning an escape or an appeal, but to just be… okay with it? I don't understand." 

Bubbles stared at the naughty sketch on the ceiling, her eyes following the lines without seeing the picture itself. She didn't like being reminded of how long her sentence was. She was twenty-four. She was going to be thirty-nine when she got out. She'd be lucky to get more than a year or two off with parole. 

"First time I was in prison, I went through the search on the way in trying to pretend that it was all happening to someone else and I was just watching. You know what that's like?" Before Gadget could answer, Bubbles laughed. "Look who I'm asking. Never mind. 

"Anyway, as soon as that was over and I looked around I just said to myself: I'm not going to stay here for two years. Then I spent a year chasing my tail trying to get out. Begging guards to let me go. Trying to get on to the outside work parties so I could give them a slip. I asked every visitor I got if they would help me escape. Even my mother. I went down on my knees and cried when I saw my first parole board. The guards had to drag me out of the room. 

"At the end of the first year I was emptying kitchen waste into a bin and I saw that the prison gate had been left open while everyone searched the garbage truck. Everyone was distracted by the search except for this old vole guard who was watching me. I must have had a foot and a half head start and twenty-five years on her and she was wearing bad shoes to be running in. 

"She looks at me and says: "'Girly, you've been itching to make a break for it since you got here and if you take off now you just may make it. I'll chase you but I doubt I'll catch you. Someone will, though, probably before sunset. And if they don't you're going to have to spend your whole life running, hiding and living around people who can't turn you into the police because they're crooks too. The ones who can help you will know why you need their help as soon as they look at you and they'll take advantage of you in every way possible and few you probably thought weren't. And then sooner or later we will catch up with you and drag you back here. You'll finish this sentence with another five years for escaping tacked on to the end. 

"Assuming you stay out a year – and you'll be luckier than most who try it if you do – you'll be in here seven years instead of two. You'll be twenty-seven when you get out, not twenty-one. And believe me those are the years you don't want to miss.'" 

Gadget waited for Bubbles to finish the story. Her friend had already told her some time ago that she had served two years, not eight, and they were both twenty-three, so Bubbles would never have been released to take part in her warehouse robbery if she had tried to escape and been recaptured. So she could more or less deduce which decision Bubbles had made. Still, she needed to hear it from the other mouse, so she asked: "What did you do then?" 

"The rest of my sentence."


	18. Lawhiney's Inferno

**_Disclaimer_**

_In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone…  except a certain kind of lawyer._

**Chapter Eighteen**

Lawhiney's Inferno

113

Lawhiney made her apologies as soon as she saw Monty coming in through the front door. 

"I'm terribly tired. It's been a big day." She said to everyone who hadn't gone home yet. 

"I'll come by one day next week, when Mom doesn't need me, and see if there's anything you need that you don't want to trouble the boys about." Tammy smiled winningly at her and Lawhiney knew instantly she meant anything feminine rather than anything too trivial to worry an adult with. 

"That's sweet of you, Tammy. I'll look forward to seeing you. And I do appreciate you sparing her for an afternoon, June. She must be such a help to you around the house." 

Tammy's mother nodded, smiling. She had been caught a little off guard by her daughter's initiative. While June approved of her daughter's role models she secretly wished her daughter would admire them from a distance; preferably a great distance. Their adventures were dangerous. Worse, there was something very adult about Tammy's interest in the Rangers; not at all like a fad or phase, which was what June tried to tell her self it was. Something deep down told her that Tammy was not just growing up, but growing away. It was a mother's instinct. 

Jennifer had left hours ago. She too had promised to visit again, but to call first. 

Sparky had left in the late afternoon to catch a train back to Princeton. He had promised to write to her again and said that he was sorry if he had forgotten to before. Had he forgotten to write to her, by the way? Lawhiney had pretended she couldn't remember but had promised to check and to write to him, as well. 

The last guests filtered out, shaking hands with Chip on the way out and waving goodbye to Gadget, who's wave back was oddly lacklustre. 

Chip had tried to question her about some past adventure they had shared but she put him off by asking about his heavily bandaged head and then she had asked Monty to push her wheelchair to her bedroom – her bedroom meaning Gadget's bedroom. That was about the only way she could find Gadget's bedroom. She had tried a veiled question to the Guide but his only response had been to stick his tongue out at her. He had been sulking and hadn't said a word since his big slip had given Jennifer's name away.

Lawhiney found the silence easier than being in the middle of a double-sided conversation, which was where she usually found herself the Guide was with her while other people were around. The Guide's eyes followed Monty's retreating back. When the door closed he sighed deeply and turned back to face Lawhiney. 

"And just what do you think you're doing in a lady's bedroom when you know perfectly well she's about to undress?" Lawhiney demanded with a raised eyebrow. 

"And how would you know the lady who owns this bedroom is about to undress?" the Guide retorted. 

Lawhiney turned up her nose and hurumphed at him. Monty had left the wheelchair close enough to the bed that she could lower the wheelchair's arm and haul herself across without much trouble. She did so, sucking air across her teeth as the leg that had suffered broken bones was forced into movement. 

Lawhiney didn't like pain. She liked to think of her self as tough but she knew the Hawaiian tribe mice had not given her a name that meant "the whine" because they thought she was stoic. A grimace twisted her whole face into something ugly. 

The Guide watched her struggle. She was a young woman who had hurt herself badly doing something she shouldn't and now she was in pain and struggling at something she should have found easy. In many ways, that description summed up Lawhiney's whole life. Part of the Guide, the part that had gotten him the job, wanted to help her. He couldn't, of course. Not with climbing into bed, anyway.

The door wasn't locked, of course. She was an invalid. She might need to call for help in the night. She could do so now and ask to be helped into bed. She could play for sympathy. If Chip, or Dale, answered the call, her wicked streak might even persuade her to help them into bed. 

But she didn't call for help and finally she made it. 

Lawhiney lay on the bed with the leg in the plaster cast raised and the arm that had been dislocated still in a sling. She felt tired, hot, pained and miserable. She saw the Guide's pitying expression and hated him. The hate made her face as ugly as the pain had a moment before. 

"Smile, why don't you?" She snarled. "Laugh at me, like you always do." 

The Guide winced and looked chagrined for a moment or two. He looked towards the wheelchair, which had rolled a little way back from the bed when Lawhiney dragged herself clear. With a wry smile he sat in the wheelchair and pretended to test it for comfort. 

"You mean like this?" he smirked at her and his moustache twitched.

"Go ahead. Enjoy yourself." Lawhiney snapped and looked away, her expression bitter. 

The Guide pursed his lips for a moment. Then he put his feet up on the end of the bed, tugged the hood of his robe down over his eyes and pretended to be taking a nap. Lawhiney watched him out of the corner of her eye. He wore sandals, she noted, and had surprisingly skinny legs.

Still refusing to look directly at him, she spoke. "I want to get undressed so I can go to bed." 

The Guide waved a hand in an airy gesture. "I'm not stopping you. I'll even keep my eyes shut." 

"How do I know I can trust you?" 

"Fine state of affairs if you _can't_ trust me!" The Guide pointed out.

"Not to peek? You're still a man, Guardian Angel or not." Lawhiney reeked of distain for the whole male race. 

"I'm not an angel, not even a trainee angel, let alone a full Guardian Angel. You might as well call me an Archangel! I'm a Guiding Spirit – that's like a caseworker. And before you suggest that I'm more likely sneak a look at you in the fur because I haven't earned those sort of wings, you should know better."

"Yeah! They'd never give your job to a guy normal enough to sneak a look at a pretty girl!" Lawhiney was delighted to see the cheap shot strike home.

The Guide sat up in the wheelchair, his eyes flashing. "Now wait a da – a darn minute! I know you've had a brush with motherhood, but just because you've managed to find a glimmer of something worthwhile in that corrupt little heart of yours for the first time ever, don't go around thinking you can afford to poke fun at me whenever you like. You're not a mother yet, you know." 

Lawhiney pouted. 

"You got yourself all banged up in that stupid robbery you pulled, no one else. If your arms and legs hurt, fine. Just remember whose fault it is: Yours."

Lawhiney opened her mouth to object. 

The Guide cut her off with a wagging finger. "Ah-ah-ah! Don't you go spinning any stories about how it's someone else's doing, or I really will start laughing at you. And that's the only time I will – when you try to fool yourself into thinking that you're still a blushing, virtuous innocent after all the things you've done of your own free will that make you anything but." 

Satisfied that he had put Lawhiney back into her place, the Guide leaned back into the wheelchair and pulled his hood down again. A few moments went by. 

"Why, of all the…" Lawhiney's jaw hung slack. "Of all the – I bet that if I'd taken it for granted that you wouldn't peek at me and just started undressing, you would have called me a wanton temptress or something. And if it isn't just like you religious types to blame a good looking girl for them being tempted!" 

"Tempted to count your stitches?" The Guide enquired from deep under the hood. "You aren't going to be winning any more swimsuit competitions, not unless you enter one while you still have your winter fur. Forget it, kiddo, I've already seen you more naked than most people ever will and I'm not missing anything." 

Lawhiney made a small choking noise. Her eyes cast about for something to throw and settled on a simply framed black and white photograph on Gadget's bedside table. It was the closest thing to hand and she didn't care if Gadget Hackwrench's heart broke along with the photo. 

Lawhiney snatched up the treasured memento and cocked her arm to throw it right at the Guide's head – or more probably right _through_ the Guide's head, given his corporeally challenged state – then something she had just seen tickled the back of her brain. 

Her right arm froze with the picture held high.

Her eyes went wide.  

The Guide looked at her in amazement. He hadn't credited her with the ability to restrain her hair-trigger temper and he could practically see the cogs turning in her head but he couldn't imagine what had set them in motion. Part of him was relieved that Lawhiney hadn't broken something that belonged to Gadget and part of him, the part that had never got used to being spirit instead of flesh and blood, was relieved he wasn't about to have something thrown at his head. 

Lawhiney blinked and whatever spell she had been under was broken. Now she cradled the photograph like it was her own treasured keepsake and gaped at it. 

The Guide rose quickly and went to look at the picture from over her shoulder. It showed a very young Gadget wearing dungarees and smiling widely as she bounced on the shoulders of a grown-up. The grown-up wore a leather jacket and a silk scarf long with a rakish moustache and a familiar twinkle in his eye. The pair stood in front of an aeroplane; the name "Screaming Eagle" was just visible on the aircraft's nose.  

Lawhiney looked up at him fearfully. The Guide's eyes were misty and his expression was happy and nostalgic. Seeing his face liked that wiped away her last doubts and she put the unimaginable thought into words. 

"It's you! You're Gadget's father!"

114

Chip looked at Monty stubbornly. 

"Yer outta ya tiny mind, Chipper my lad!" the Australian thundered as Dale looked on uncertainly. 

"You know I was thinking about it before I got hit on the head by that winch, so don't try that one on me." Chip said defiantly. 

"All that means is that it failed to knock some sense into you!" Monty replied.

"Aw gee, Chip, I don't get it. I've only just gotten used to the idea of people running around pretending to be us to make money – we never seem to get any!"

"That's because we're a volunteer group, Dale. We help people for nut'in." Monty explained darkly. 

"And if the impostor isn't the real impostor, does that mean that she's a fake impostor? 'Cause if she is, doesn't that mean we have to put her straight back in prison after we help her for pretending to be the real impostor?"

Chip suppressed the urge to cuff Dale for the interruption. 

"We ain't helping anyone in prison, are we Chipper?" Monty urged. 

"I'm just saying I want to put my mind at rest." The detective tried to convince himself.

"Bzzb zbzz." Zipper intoned by Monty's ear.

"I agree. Resting Chip's mind sounds like a great idea." Monty muttered. "It's late, Chipper, and it's been a hard day for all of us. This will wait until morning, one way or the other. Until then I reckon the best thing we could do is all get some sleep. I'd like to see the prison that could stop our Gadget from coming home if she wanted to, though. I reckon you're worried over nothing, come morning you'll be laughing at yourself for telling us about this." 

"I hope so, Monty. But, one way or another, I have a feeling this is going to stay with me." Chip answered sullenly. 

Slowly, with the uncomfortable feeling that everyone gets when they let the sun go down on an argument, Chip made his way to bed. Dale, Monty and Zipper stayed up to finish cleaning up after the party. 

He might have just made a fool of himself. That crazy nightmare he had suffered after being knocked out that afternoon was colouring his logic. There was no guarantee that Gadget Hackwrench wasn't asleep in her room right at this moment, even if the inmate he had seen that morning wasn't the impostor that he had hunted across half the state. 

Brandon, the grey mouse who had tried to kidnap Gadget at the hospital, had confirmed his involvement in the Museum Robbery. Gadget had been too distressed and bruised around the throat to talk at the time and had partial amnesia, which meant she probably wouldn't have been able to verify it in any case. That confirmed that the Gadget in the hospital was the one who had been in the air crash while flying the Ranger Plane… And by rights, that alone should have been all the confirmation that any sane man or rodent needed to prove she was Gadget Hackwrench. 

There was no solid proof that the crooks who had hi-jacked the Ranger Plane were the same crooks who had impersonated the Rangers across half the country, so there was no reason to think the girl who had impersonated Gadget would be found in their company, let alone flying the Ranger Plane. Still, there hadn't been any more frauds perpetrated since then which was suggestive. 

There was something wrong though. Chip was sure of it. He racked his brain for something he could put his finger on, something clearly un-Gadget-like that the girl they had brought home from the hospital had done since he arrived back in the city. It wasn't difficult. In fact it was easy. There had been hundreds of things that just weren't quite right about Gadget since the moment he walked through the hospital room door and she'd hidden under the bedcovers like she expected a beating from him. The problem was that any and all of them could be put down to the fact that she was just out of hospital after a bad head injury. 

Chip hesitated as he passed Gadget's door. The temptation to try the door drew him back. 

It wasn't locked. She was an invalid and might need help in the night. 

Behind that door Gadget might be doing something personal and behind that door the impostor who had nearly destroyed Gadget's reputation might be revealing herself as a fraud. "_Revealing herself?_" Chip's conscience tugged at him. Chip ignored it. He could put his eye to the keyhole and look without _revealing_ himself, he mused. Except to anyone who came up behind him and got the wrong idea. 

Chip glanced over his shoulder to check whether he could get away with it before he even considered whether he should resist the temptation. The coast was clear. His hand edged towards the door. Indecision seized the hand and held it a finger's length away from Gadget's door handle. 

He had lived under the same roof as Gadget Hackwrench for seven years, since she had joined up as a founder member of the rangers at the age of eighteen. He had loved her secretly for every second. Not once in all that time had he been tempted to violate her privacy. The thought of doing so, of anyone doing so, struck at the core of his being in some way he couldn't quite define. He had endless fantasies of being her rescuer, her champion, her knight in shining armour, but none of them featured him going through her things or peeking through keyholes at her afterwards. 

_But, even if she is undressing, it might not be Gadget in there!_ The thought came unbidden and insistent and with it came the unchallenged assumption that spying on someone who **wasn't** Gadget was acceptable, even if it was someone very beautiful in the act of undressing. 

From down the hallway came the indistinct sounds of Dale complaining about his share of the cleaning up and the deeper rumbling of Monty making sure Dale _did_ his share of the cleaning. They would be occupied for some time. 

Chip hesitated a second longer and then, the guilty knot in his conscience somehow unravelled by the idea that if it wasn't really Gadget he wasn't really spying, he turned out the hall light and slowly opened the door by the narrowest of cracks. 

Gadget was sitting up in bed, lying on top of the sheets, still fully dressed. Cradled in her lap was the photograph of her father that she kept by her bed. Chip watched breathlessly as tears rolled down her nose. 

"I was never good enough for you." Gadget whispered to the photograph. 

Chip silently closed the door and crept away. 

115

"I was never good enough for you." Lawhiney whispered as she looked at the photograph. "You aren't here to help me at all. You're here to help _her_ by making me turn myself in. You don't care about me at all. You're like all the others." Lawhiney's face was deeply creased with bitterness. When she turned her teary eyes to stare accusingly at the Guide, he saw they were filled not with hate but envy. 

"The others?" The Guide questioned. "How many spirit guides have you had?"

"You know what I mean. You're like my parents, my parole officer, the guy I left home for and all the rest. You pretend to care but really you just want me as an ornament to impress your friends, or you're just doing your job, or you want to play with me until you get bored." Lawhiney glared at him. 

The Guide thought a moment. He looked at the photograph again. He wasn't allowed to lie but there were different ways of presenting the truth. As he looked to the photo and to Lawhiney and back again he knew that he owed her nothing short of the full, raw truth. 

"Lawhiney," he said carefully, "you make it difficult to care for you. You lie. You cheat. You steal. Much of what you do is done for spite, or cruelty. Since I have been with you, you have given me cause to be indignant, angry and despairing – just when I thought I would never have to feel such things again!" He twitched his moustache. Slowly a grudging half smile emerged on his face. "But, no matter how difficult you make it, you do have a fierce love for your child and your faults are more the kind a mischievous, selfish child might have than anything approaching true evil." 

Lawhiney looked at him suspiciously. "You like me? Better than Gadget?" 

The Guide shook his head. "Of course not. Gadget is my daughter. You aren't even a good person. Darn it, you aren't even a nice person! And that's much easier than being a good person!" 

Lawhiney scowled at him. Again, she looked like she might throw the picture. 

"You want Monty, or Chip, to come in because they heard a crash?" The Guide asked.

Lawhiney sneered as though that didn't trouble her but she did put the framed photograph back on the bedside table – unharmed. 

"Lawhiney… We were never properly introduced. My name is Geegaw Hackwrench and I want to help you. Now I'm not allowed to lie to you. If I could chose to be anywhere in the world right now, I would be with my daughter Gadget. Not with you. But just like I've shown you what will happen to your unborn child if you don't become a good person, so I've been shown what will happen to you if I don't help you."

Lawhiney drew back. This time she did not pretend she was untroubled. 

"The straight fact of the matter is that you need me in your life and Gadget don't. I could go to her, but I couldn't do anything for her."

"No?" Lawhiney seemed puzzled, though she was probably just wondering what use Geegaw was to her if he couldn't help his own daughter. 

"No. By definition, if she doesn't need me then I would be unnecessary. At best, I would be a luxury. At worst, I would be a distraction, an inconvenience. A burden. What parent would want to be that to their child?" 

Lawhiney looked sideways at Geegaw, perhaps wondering if he was getting at something. 

Geegaw continued without noticing. "You, on the other hand, _do_ need me. I know I can make a difference to your life and, because I know that, I have a responsibility. I can walk away and go where _I_ want to or I can stay and help someone I know needs my help. If I choose to walk away I won't be responsible for what eventually happens to you, but I will be responsible for the decision not to help someone who needs helping."  

Lawhiney's eyes narrowed. "Surely that wouldn't matter to you. You've already been judged, so you don't have to worry." 

Geegaw sighed heavily. "You might not care about anything except staying in a smokeless zone but a good person would want to do right for it's own sake. A good person does good deeds the way a painter might paint a picture for his own amusement."

"Is that what reforming me will be? A good deed you can stick on a wall to impress your visitors, or set to one side to compare with your later masterpieces?" Lawhiney's eyes were teary. 

They had probably been teary for some time, but Geegaw hadn't noticed until now.  He instinctively wanted to comfort her, then realised that Lawhiney might well be trying to play him for sympathy. "Well if it was picture of your face right now, I know which room I'd hang it in!" he jabbed. 

Lawhiney wailed. 

Satisfied that it was genuine misery that had bubbled to the surface, Geegaw held up a paw. "You remember that charity swindle you pulled? The one where people worked for two weeks to hand you money on stage that you then took with you when you rushed off to a staged rescue? The one you committed simply because you liked the idea? It's like that, Lawhiney. You think you reached the height of your skill with that – you took more pleasure in the deed than in what the deed gained you. You were wicked for the sake of being wicked."

"Well, if that's what it's like, then what I do doesn't matter at all! It's my nature to do wrong, just like it's in a cat's nature to eat mice when it's hungry." Lawhiney whined. 

Geegaw looked at her sternly. "You were born innocent, Lawhiney, neither good nor evil. You were ignorant of the difference between the two and free to choose who you were. You were guided by those around you and by your own conscience. The choices you made laid the foundations of the person you were going to become. Until eventually you became the person you were when you swindled those charity workers and robbed that museum." 

"I am what I am! That's all I know how to be. Asking me to be any different is like asking me to stop existing! I'll sing off the words on the hymn sheet like everybody else if that's what it takes to stay out of the hot seat, but if I sing out of key it's because I can't help it!"

"It's not fair to ask you to sing with someone else's voice, huh?" Geegaw prodded at her. 

"No its…" Lawhiney winced and started over. "I just mean, what's the good of me being good the next fifty years if at the end of it I still get sent down under with all the other sinners because I'm bad inside?"

_She admitted she's a sinner!_ Geegaw noted privately. 

"The good deeds you do from now on will lay the foundation for you to become a different person. By which I mean a good version of yourself, not for you to start impersonating someone else!" Geegaw's tone softened. "Look, Lawhiney, you may or may not have fifty years to become a good person in."

Lawhiney looked alarmed.

"It's taken you twenty years to drift into being the bad person you are now, but if you work hard at it you could be a really decent person in just two or three years. People who change that fast tend to slip back, though, and it would be harder work than I think you want to put in. I think it'll take you maybe seven years to reform properly. If you die before you're done then they'll take the progress you've made into account but you'll still be sent to wherever you best fit in and, well, if it's a place along with other people who do wicked things for the sake of it…" Geegaw sighed and shrugged helplessly. 

Lawhiney looked intrigued, as thought such a place might be her idea of a good time. "Where people do wicked things for the sake of it? No brimstone, or fire, or ugly giants in white coats that stick you with needles and make you run around mazes before they cut you open?" 

"That last one is actually a distorted report of what goes on in human laboratories… but I wouldn't be surprised if the opposition took that kind of talk as a suggestion. What happens to you if you get sent downstairs is actually a very personal and different thing for everyone." Geegaw explained.

"But you said you had been shown what would happen to me. Did you mean my future on earth, or afterwards?" 

"I was shown some of your future here. It wasn't pretty and you don't need to worry about it because I'm here now to look after you. As for your afterlife… No one can say for sure how you would be judged if you died tomorrow, let alone fifty years from now. You could look back at your life and be so sorry that they would wipe the slate clean. But I could give you a glimpse perhaps, of what _might_ be waiting for you if you don't mend your ways. It's allowed, usually as a last resort, but if you want to know that badly…" Geegaw let the sentence hang, as though it meant nothing. He wasn't expecting her to take him up on it.

"You say that the place for bad people is really just a place for them to do what they do up here?" Lawhiney still looked intrigued. 

Geegaw sighed. He hadn't expected her to be quite this unimaginative. "Pretty much – of course, there are some very powerful beings down there, beings that have been there a long time. They can be quite brutal towards those who are weaker than themselves."

"It's a lot like that up here, in case you hadn't noticed. The trick is not to _be_ the weaker being." Lawhiney responded. "Which I wouldn't plan to be for long, at any rate." 

Privately Geegaw felt some internal counter click over. He knew that by morning Lawhiney would have convinced herself of this dangerous untruth. She would go blindly into the darkness when her time came and her afterlife would be, as it was for too many people, nothing but a continuation of what had gone before. Even where "what had gone before" was benign, that was a circular path that achieved nothing but the endless and, eventually, solitary repetition of the same deeds until they lost all meaning. 

Lawhiney, Geegaw silently vowed, would not be one of them. "I can show you a little of what it would be like there, in a dream. Unless you're not up to it, of course."

116

Lawhiney scowled at the mist in front of her. She had done her best to reform; what did they want from her? Blood? Well, they had plenty now. And who knew that even one of Gadget's unfinished inventions could be so dangerous? Perhaps she should have taken the hint when Chip and Dale had suddenly stopped pouring honey into each of her ears and started backing out the door. Still, at least she was better prepared than last time. She knew what was coming and her near terminal gaffe with the pearl from the pearly gates would have been forgotten by now. 

Lawhiney practised her contrite, repentant sinner look. She used to be rather good at it, when she was in school, but she hadn't had needed to use that particular look very much since puberty so she was a bit out of practice.  

After what might have been a few minutes Lawhiney was reasonably sure she had it right… although without a mirror it was impossible to be sure. Now all she had to do was to find the gates and Saint Peter and grovel until she was let in. The human had been a bit of a push over last time, now that she really thought about it, so a few false tears ought to do the trick. 

The catch was finding the gates again.

The fog was thicker than before. Darker too. Before the mist had been as white as an angel's wing and seemed to be lit from behind whichever way you turned. Now it was a thick, sooty grey. Lawhiney found herself wiping her face and eyes because she didn't like the feel of the fog touching her. It felt dirty and like some males that she had known it made her feel unclean where it had touched her, which was everywhere. 

"If I ever needed that darn Guide…" Lawhiney muttered, taking care to moderate her language in case someone important was listening. "Hello? Anybody? I need someone to show me the way! Please?" 

"Well, well, well." A choked, raspy voice drifted out of the darkness with an accent that reminded Lawhiney of Pierre. Pierre's real accent that was, the London one, not the cartoon skunk voice he used to tickle fancies of rich widows. 

It wasn't until Lawhiney peered into the gloom to find the owner of the voice that she realised how dark it had become while she had been searching for Saint Peter. It was like twilight just after sunset. 

Out of the dark hobbled a bat in a cloth cap and tattered working clothes that were out of date by perhaps fifty years or more. As Lawhiney sized him up she was shocked to see that he had a peg leg. She didn't think that anyone in heaven would have a peg leg. 

"You must be Lawhiney."  The bat said in a rasping voice. "They told me you were coming." He assumed an apologetic expression and took off his hat. "I'm sorry no one was there to meet you. We sent a guide but he seems to have wandered off." 

"Wandered off… was it the same Guide who was supposed to be helping me on Earth?" Lawhiney wrinkled her nose.

"Why, yes." The bat seemed surprised by the question.

"Humph. He's probably visiting his daughter." Lawhiney scowled resentfully.

"Visiting his daughter?" the bat's jaw dropped.

Lawhiney smiled. Perhaps being charitable would be an easy ticket into Saint Peter's good books. "Hey, it doesn't matter. He works hard. He's entitled." 

Something halfway between a sneer and a smile settled on the bat's mouth. "I'll be sure to pass that on." 

"I'm afraid I've gotten a little turned around in the mist. Are we a long way from the pearly gates?" 

The bat's jaw dropped. "The pearly…" he keeled over in raucous laughter.

The sudden feeling that this did not bode well crept over Lawhiney. "Why are you laughing at me?"

"Don't you worry, sweetheart, you turned yourself around just fine a long time ago, without any mist to help you. My name is Fidget. They sent me to show you around your knew home. Kinda, help you get settled in, so to speak." The bat leered at her. 

"Where exactly are you going to help me settle in **_to_**?" Lawhiney felt the apprehension building. She remembered that she had never gotten around to explaining to the Rangers about who she really was and just how she came to be, quite innocently, impersonating Gadget. The Guide had put quite a high priority on this particular act of repentance… but since the Guide had turned out to be Gadget's father, perhaps he had exaggerated. 

"Distopia, of course. The fifth largest city in Hell… and your new home for the rest of eternity." 

Fidget waved his good wing as though he was wiping condensation off a window and a small hole cleared in the mist. The hole grew larger as Lawhiney peered through, until she could see the whole of the city beneath them. It stretched away into the blood-red horizon but the buildings were so tall that Lawhiney could only see a tiny chink of the far edge of the city. Every building was a gothic spire and every spire was crusted with so much soot and grime that they looked like twisted and melted black candles. As if to complete the illusion, one of the towers was broken and the top was burning with a bright yellow flame. 

Every hair on Lawhiney's body, from the tip of her tail to her nose, stood on end. "No. No, please. There's been a mistake. I haven't even had a trial." 

"Oh, there's no trial. Unless you count life... You just get judged." Fidget replied. "Hey, don't you go running. You slip and fall here you can find yourself somewhere a lot worse." 

"**_Like where_**?" Lawhiney shrieked hysterically.  

"Like down there." Fidget pointed to a lake of bubbling mud beneath them, which surrounded the city like a moat. 

They were standing on a mountain path, Lawhiney realised without the slightest idea how she had gotten there. The path zigzagged down the side of a mountain range that also surrounded the city.  Halfway down to the seething mud the path ended at a narrow footbridge that stretched all the way across the lake to the city edge. The bridge was only wide enough for people to cross in single file and a steady flow of fellow sinners was making its way across as she watched. 

"Doesn't anyone use the bridge to leave?" she asked, helplessly. 

"People try all the time. See – there's one now." Fidget pointed to the far end, which was almost invisible in the mud steam, the heat-haze and the smog. 

Out of the murk appeared a lone, ragged figure, clutching a metal bar the length of somebody's arm. Lawhiney watched as the figure, a massive male grey rat with a crop of black hair, advanced menacingly on a sinner who was trying to cross the bridge into Distopia. 

The sinner – a short helpless looking mouse – raised his forepaws in surrender and backed up into someone else. The mole he had backed into didn't look any happier than he was about the prospect of fighting the stranger but further retreat was barred by the new arrivals behind them. 

The mouse looked over the side of the bridge at the boiling mud. It was a sheer drop with no place to stand aside and let someone else pass. The mole pushed the mouse forward roughly and the mouse fell to his knees in front of the rat. Lawhiney was too far away to hear the appeals for mercy or the rat's brief grunt of refusal but she could clearly see the look of terror on the mouse's face when the grey rat picked him up by the shirt and threw him at the mole. 

The mole batted the mouse over the ankle high safety rail and sent him screaming into the mud where a huge bubble rose and burst just in time to swallow him whole. Lawhiney gulped and then wished she hadn't. 

The mole advanced, swinging his shovel-like forepaws. The rat countered by striking him on the top of his head with the metal bar and the mole dropped to his knees. With a double-handed sweep of the bar, the rat sent the mole over the side of the bridge, after the mouse. 

The sinner behind the mole was shoved forward, just as the mouse had been. Instead of surrendering the new challenger, a chipmunk, bent at the waist and ran forward with his head down, charging the rat like a bull. The chipmunk's head hit the rat in the sternum and sent him stumbling backwards. 

With a cry of fury the rat fell from the bridge into the same boiling mud that had claimed his two previous victims.

"Ooooh. I hate to think who must have been mad at that guy for him to try crossing the bridge." Fidget shook his head mournfully. 

Lawhiney whimpered. 

"Well, can't stand here all day sightseeing. Some cop will give us a ticket for enjoying ourselves." Fidget decided and led down the path. 

"Can you really get fines for enjoying yourself here?" Lawhiney asked as they crossed the bridge. The idea didn't seem that strange to her, in fact, she'd always thought that all laws existed for the sole purpose of stopping people from enjoying themselves. But if you could be fined for having a good time that meant it was possible…

"Oh yeah. And they'll do worse than fine you too, if you don't pay up quick smart. There are jails and stocks and all the torture chambers you probably heard about in church, if you ever went. To church, I mean."

"The cops, are they like angels, or demons?" 

Fidget laughed. "No, they're cops. You might be surprised but we get our share of cops, judges and jailers down here. Personally, I think we take more than our share of lawyers. Far more. But just try getting representation when they take you to court!"

"Surely if there are a lot of lawyers…"

"We get criminal lawyers but there's never enough to go around. Mostly we get contract lawyers, corporate lawyers and, worst of all, copyright lawyers. Don't go humming any show tunes down here." 

"That bad?" 

"This _is_ hell, baby. But it's not all bad. Well, actually it is, but it's actually pretty hard to make people suffer twenty-four seven for all eternity, 'cause you can pretty much get used to anything after a while. Once those guys who went over the side here get used to the heat and the dark and choking muck and the stickiness, they'll be able to drag themselves out. Might take 'em a couple o' years but they'll be back."

Lawhiney, who had assumed they had merely been boiled to death, shivered at the thought of falling from the bridge and not being able to die…

"Point is the management will pretty much let you get on with your business – can't really call it life, not down here – the way you did when you were alive. Work, eat, pay bills… lots of bills. You'll have to find a place to stay. You'll get broken into a lot. That's one of the problems down here, we get a lot of criminals…"

"Don't the police you mentioned–"

"No. The better a crook is, the more likely they are to come down here – it's the opposite with the cops. We usually only get the really bad ones. They don't catch someone unless they think there's something in it for them. Usually you have to bribe them just to save you from someone who's robbing you in front of them."

Lawhiney subsided. She didn't much like the sound of that. She was a good-looking girl and she didn't have to check her pockets to know she didn't have any money. But since all her good was in the looks department, it didn't take long for the upside to occur to her. "Hey, does that mean it's easy to get away with stuff down here?" 

"Ah-ha. That would be… no. See, the cops might not catch you but someone will – maybe by the person you've done the stuff to, maybe by someone who owes that person a favour, or just by someone who thinks they can put the screws on you for something-" Fidget gave her the once over and leered "-in exchange for keeping quiet."

Lawhiney scowled at him.

"Well, here we are." Fidget said a moment later when they stepped off the end of the bridge. "And that big rat guy turned the toll booth over so you don't even have to pay to get in!" 

"They make you pay to get in?"

"Yeah. Talk about adding insult to injury. You got any change on you?" 

"No." 

"Twice as lucky then. You don't have cash for something you have to do them some kind of favour instead…" 

Lawhiney thought better of asking what kind of favours. 

"You haven't got any cash for a place to stay then?" 

"No." 

"I could loan you some. At a very unreasonable rate of interest."

"An unreasonable rate of interest?"

"Remember where we are, Blondie. I said an unreasonable rate, not an extortionate rate." 

"How am I supposed to pay you back?" Lawhiney asked suspiciously. 

"Get a job. Or steal it. I don't care. That's the thing; down here, no one really does…" 

"How much would I need? And when would I have to pay you back?" 

"All debts must be paid by the end of the month. And how much depends on where you want to live. For what I've got in my pocket right now, you could get a nice alfresco matchbox in a gutter somewhere." 

Lawhiney frowned. "And for an apartment?" 

"Rent's pretty steep here… for a few thousand you could get a place but you'd be paying off the loan for the first month's rent for a long time and that's on top of the rent for all the other months. But you're a good looking girl…" Fidget snickered. "Why don't you persuade someone to - ah-ha - share?" 

Lawhiney looked down her nose at him, then narrowed her eyes and smiled. "What do mean?" she asked coquettishly as she walked her fingers up Fidget's muscular chest. "Someone like you?" 

The bat laughed nervously. "Sure! I mean, why not?"  

"Because you're an ugly, twisted, maniacal little monster with a peg-leg and crippled wing." Lawhiney said sweetly. 

"We'll see if you feel that way when your loan is due for repayment." Fidget snarled. "Now come on – I got to show you all the sights and still see my regular clients." 

It didn't take as long as Lawhiney had expected to find her way around. There was something vaguely familiar about Distopia that reminded her of every city she had ever been in. There was the constant sound of gunfire, sirens and screaming in the background but, because it was constant, it wasn't long before she only noticed such noises when they stopped. 

Fidget, grudgingly, helped her find a one-room place high up in one of the spires she had seen from the hillside path. There was no elevator, so it took most of the morning to climb the stairs from the ground floor to her new front door and, when she opened it, the first thing she saw was the chalk outline the previous owner had left on the floor.

"I thought you said you couldn't die here." She said without entering the room. 

"You can't. See where the outline is missing the head? This is a kidnapping. Somewhere this guy's body is being kept in a box and running up a storage fee, if he's lucky. His head could be anywhere… being questioned, or used as a soccer ball." Fidget shrugged. 

Lawhiney looked around the room. Water was dripping through the ceiling onto the bed and every stick of furniture that hadn't been smashed to splinters had been stolen. She had grasped the mood of the city well enough to know she wasn't going to find anything better. 

"I'll take it." She said. 

"Wise choice." Fidget said. "I turned down three places, each worse than the last, when I first got here." 

"There's something I wanted to ask." 

"About your little boy?" Fidget seemed to be expecting the question. Lawhiney's heart leapt. 

"YES! How did you know?" 

"They said you'd ask. If you love him, people will use it against you, so try not to let on. The other side tell you the unborn go somewhere else, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's right enough, but for a price you can get him sprung from that place. Happens all the time." 

"Wouldn't he be better off…?"

"In some celestial orphanage? Hey, it's up to you; if you want to let them take him away from you…"

"NO!" Lawhiney shouted. Plaster fell from the ceiling. 

"It'll cost you." Fidget repeated. "Fifteen years at least. And that's being kind." 

"Fifteen years what?"

"Servitude. To me." Fidget smiled, revealing some of the yellowiest rotting teeth she had ever seen.

"What kind of servitude?" Lawhiney narrowed her eyes.

"Anything I choose, sweetheart!" The bat grinned. 

"You have to be kidding!"

"That's the price. If you're not interested, find someone else and see if they say any different." 

"Maybe I will. I don't take the first thing offered all the time. If they say the same or worse, maybe they'll be better looking than you." 

Fidget rounded on her angrily but then shrugged off the insult when he saw she was un-intimidated. "Your loss, toots. I would have been willing to negotiate." 

"So negotiate. You bring me my son and I'll do anything you want, for fifteen years, except for one thing…" Lawhiney glared at Fidget.

Fidget looked puzzled. "What one thing?"

Lawhiney told him. 

"Oh that!" Fidget looked downcast. "Well, what else are you good for?"

Lawhiney rolled her eyes in despair. "Have you read my rap sheet?" 

"You'll do _anything_ on your rap sheet for me? For fifteen years?"

"So long as it's not…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. Except for _that_!"

"So do we have a deal?"

Fidget mulled it over. "Well, if I don't take it, I guess you'll just go elsewhere. Okay, it's a deal."

Lawhiney shook Fidget's wing on the deal and set to clearing up the apartment. Strangely, now that the worst had happened, she found herself feeling liberated. She was in hell therefore she didn't have to worry about her behaviour any more. 

The thought froze her in the act of picking up a smashed chair. Like the screaming from the other apartments, she had only noticed that she worried about her behaviour in life when the worry had finally stopped. Sitting on the only dry corner of the bed, she thought about that for a long time. 

117

Fidget brought her child to her the next morning. He almost couldn't get into Lawhiney's apartment, because in the night people had started breaking down the doors to all the apartments in the hallway and doing things to the occupants of those rooms. Lawhiney didn't know what things exactly but, after the third neighbour's cries had fallen silent, she had pushed and dragged the bed across the room to barricade the door. She didn't know what had happened to the intruders either. After the fifth door was down everything had suddenly gone ominously quiet and stayed that way until dawn, by which time Lawhiney had begun to wish that someone, anyone just so long as it wasn't _her_, would start screaming again to break the silence. 

Roach was a wide-eyed, innocent looking child with sandy coloured hair and fur. Lawhiney looked at him and her heart almost broke. 

"He won't have to stay here forever?" Lawhiney asked Fidget.

"He can leave anytime. He hasn't done anything to keep him here. Want to take him to the playground?"

"They have playgrounds here?"

"Only because cities upstairs do. They have them; we have to have them. I don't recommend letting him play on anything though. Dangerous." Fidget held up his wings as if to say he'd rather try swimming the mud-moat that surrounded the city. 

Fidget wasn't lying either. When they got there the tiny concrete square was a jumble of rusty sharp needles, broken swings and slides. There was another chalk outline under the climbing frame, again without a head. 

"Uh, do you want to play on something, sweetie?" Lawhiney asked. Her child shook his head and clutched at her. 

"Uh-oh…" Fidget said.

"What's the matter?" Lawhiney pricked up her ears.

"I didn't think they'd show up so soon…" 

Lawhiney followed the bat's nod and saw that the mouse sized climbing frame was now covered in big black flies. 

"Bzzz… You stole my favourite bracelet and then just threw it away like a piece of cheep trash!" one of the flies complained. 

"Wha-? What are they?" Lawhiney gasped.

"They represent all your victims. If you were human they'd be crows but for us they send flies… I don't know what they send for flies. I always wondered." 

"I would have thought my victims would have shown up personally if they had a grudge." Lawhiney said nervously.

"Ha! They will! If they get sent down here, that is. These things don't really care whether anyone has a grudge though. They're drawn by guilt. They feed on it. On you." Fidget's voice took on a deep, dramatic resonance as though he were recording a voiceover for an action movie trailer. 

Lawhiney shivered. "Can you do anything? I mean; you're a bat…"

"Uh-uh, these guys taste bad. I'd be sick for a week." 

The flies began buzzing madly. 

Lawhiney began to back away.

"Bzzzt – You told lies about me and now nobody likes me!" wailed a fly wearing a blond wig that sounded suspiciously like Gadget Hackwrench. 

As one insect, the flies rose up from the climbing frame. 

Lawhiney turned and ran. The flies pursued and were quickly all around her. One settled on her head and began tugging at her eyelids, trying to pull them up over her eyebrows. She could feel a dozen of them pulling on her tail. Soon it was impossible to run and Lawhiney clutched her son close to her chest and curled her body over his to protect him. The flies beat at her back and every exposed part of her body with their tiny fists, taking turns to shout their war cries. 

"I gave up my job to collect for an orphanage that never existed!" 

"You broke my heart! MY HEART, DO YOU HEAR ME?"

"You didn't have to treat me like dirt all the time, just because I liked you and I wasn't strong, or rich or handsome." 

"You took away the only thing that ever mattered to me. My husband!"

Lawhiney tried not to hear them but they were good at making themselves heard. Then, when the voices had blurred into one another and Lawhiney couldn't say which of her crimes or sins the cries referred to, the flies departed. 

The first thing Lawhiney did was to check her son for injuries. She opened her mouth to call him by name but suddenly realised that she hadn't named him… she had only heard him called by the name Rat Capone had given him: Roach.

She couldn't call him that. 

"You okay?" Fidget asked in the same tone of voice he might use for: I don't care. 

"What's his name?" Lawhiney asked.

"Huh? How should I know? He's your kid." 

"You must have know his name to get him out of that cosmic orphanage you talked about. Otherwise, how could you have gotten the right kid?" 

"I knew your name. He hasn't got one until you choose one. That's how it works. Parents name their kids."

Lawhiney brushed the child's hair out of his eyes and frowned in thought. The hair was blond. "Sandy?" she tried. 

No response.

"Sandy, are you okay?" 

Still nothing. 

Lawhiney frowned. "Don't like Sandy, huh? Well, it's not much of a name, I guess. Perhaps I should just call you Junior. Would you like to be called after your Daddy?" 

The child looked at her, mutely. 

Lawhiney half-smiled ruefully. "If I could work out what _Daddy_ was called, we might be getting somewhere." 

Behind her, Fidget chuckled. Lawhiney scowled. 

The catch was that she didn't really think of him as "Sandy" however well it suited him. She thought of him as Roach. She looked at him guiltily. "Roach?" 

The child blinked and seemed to come out of a trance. "I wanna go home." 

"He's your kid alright." Laughed Fidget.

They took him back to the one room apartment. Lawhiney had used the wet bedclothes to wipe away the chalk outline and clean the floor, but the ever-present soot and grime from their surroundings got everywhere and the floor was dirty again by the time they got back.

Lawhiney sat her boy on the dry corner of the bed, which had refused to dry over night, and checked him all over again for injuries. He didn't have any. 

"Those things will come back, won't they?" she asked Fidget over her shoulder. 

"Yeah, they always come back. Best if they find you out in the open. At least you can run for a while and they don't get trapped in some tiny space with you when they're ready to leave."

"What's this lump?" Lawhiney asked in horror.

Roach had a large black lump on the side of his neck. It was half the size of one of his hands.

"Roach, honey, how long have you had that? Did the flies do that to you?" Lawhiney was a picture of motherly concern. 

"I don't know…" Roach was quiet and uncertain. He seemed lost. 

"Fidget, I hate to ask you anything else…" 

"You mean you're gonna hate paying me for anything else…" Fidget grumbled.

"I need you to help me find a doctor." 

"A doctor? Pretty much everything down here heals eventually… people do occasionally need stitching back together though. Cost ya." 

"Everything does." 

The doctor was a mole with some ugly stitching that arched completely over the top of his domed head. The stitching didn't worry Lawhiney. The Victorian hat and cloak, coupled with the black doctor's bag that seemed to be leaking blood from a hole in the corner, did worry her but there was little she could do about it.

"I have seen this several times before… this boy did not come to be here in the usual manner, did he?" The mole doctor had a fat, well-to-do British accent that made Lawhiney think of money. 

"He's mine… he wasn't born the way I hoped." 

"He hasn't been born at all… he has no navel and that's always a dead giveaway, if you will forgive the pun." The mole smiled a ghastly smile, full of broken teeth. 

"Please, tell me what's wrong with him…"

"You are the boy's Mother?"

"Yes."

"The lump on the boy's neck is what we call blight. You're a new arrival, I take it?" 

"Yes. What is blight?"

"Here our… **_sins_** can be more than just actions, or memories. In a place like this they can take on physical shapes and forms… often, horrible ones. Such a thing causes the lump on the boy's neck; a sin has become a disease and afflicts him.

"But- but that's impossible! How could such a thing…?" 

"My dear, please remember. This is not the physical world. The limits on what can happen here are purely imaginary, in every sense. I have seen many sins take on form since I… began my practice here. Many can even become living creatures, some of which go on to have an independent existence of their very own. Almost as if they were our children, in a way."  

"Roach is not a sin. He's my baby!" Lawhiney pouted. 

"True, and a good thing. Of the sins I have seen take on an existence of their own, few have used their time well. Some have used their time to hunt down those who brought them into the world and punish them. Others have simply run wild, attacking random bystanders."

"Why?" 

"Perhaps because they find innocent bystanders hard to come by." The doctor smiled at his own wit. 

"I mean, why has this one become a disease? And why infect my son instead of me?" It was _perhaps_ the first trace of selflessness Lawhiney had ever displayed. 

"Spite, I suspect. It is rare for a sin to become a living thing though… even a disease. Usually we just gain a particularly ugly statue for the city park." The doctor seemed to lose interest. "Tell Fidget I'll expect my pound of flesh tomorrow." 

Lawhiney snatched up her son and departed. She did not enquire whether the doctor's message was merely a figure of speech or meant literally. 

Outside she passed on everything the doctor had said to Fidget, along with the doctor's message. The bat was sucking on the straw of a soft drink that he had bought from a "fast" food place across the street from the doctor's surgery. 

"Everyone knows about the sins becoming monsters and such-like occasionally." He said. "A huge one crawled out of the mud-lake a couple of years back and knocked down a couple of spires. Never heard of one becoming a disease before, though." Fidget took another slurp of the fizzing, smoking black liquid, which was starting to eat through the cup. 

Lawhiney held her boy close to her, stroking his head. She was shocked to find another lump behind one of his ears like a grotesque, pulsing purple slug. "This happened after the flies… did one of the flies do this? Or change to become a disease when they saw me trying to protect him?" 

"No – the flies represent your victims, not your sins. That big thing that crawled out of the lake; it was one sin but there were a _lot_ of flies chasing the guy responsible for it. That's how the mob found him to explain how much they hate being stepped on by a sixty-foot lizard." Fidget had a dirty laugh. Some of the people in the queue for the "fast food" place looked up curiously. Many of them were so emaciated they could hardly stand. 

"How did you get to the front of the queue while I was with the doctor?" Lawhiney frowned. 

"I didn't, I stuck the place up. Ya' see, the flies are just stand-ins for your victims. The ones that can't be bothered to show up in person that is, on account of them being busy with walking around and breathing or wearing a halo and playing a harp. You just got here, so most of your victims will still be alive. Then, when they finally get around to dying, a lot of them will go to the good place and plain forget all about you just out of pure spite!" Fidget scowled as though there had been one particular victim of his own that he had hoped to meet up with again on any terms. Then a thought struck him. "It's a good idea to keep track of your flies as best as you can. If one of your flies stops showing up, it means that particular victim ain't just dead; they're dead and on their way **_down here_**! Most likely they'll be too busy with their own worries to look you up at first but, sooner or later, they'll take it into their head to come after you and, ah-ha, even the score."

Lawhiney opened her mouth to ask a question. She stopped when her sharp hearing detected a faint buzzing… which built to an alarming drone in a heartbeat. 

"There they are!" trilled one of the flies. "Places everyone!" 

The army of flies quickly spread throughout the fast food queue and bustling street crowd. To Lawhiney's alarm, all the flies were wearing unconvincing bandages and makeup that made them look like plague victims. One or two of them even rang small bells and called out "Unclean! Unclean!" as they threaded their way through the people on the street. 

"Tell me they're not serious?" Lawhiney asked Fidget, who eyed her and backed away rapidly. "No one would believe such a ridiculous…" she trailed off as she remembered just how many ridiculous things she had persuaded people to believe.

"Oh, the pain, the pain!" faked one fly.

"My poor fevered head! Who will save us from this terrible plague that has struck the city?" overacted another.

"So many people struck down so quickly! There are hundreds just lying helpless in the street on the west side!" A third chimed in with his bell. "But they've all already been robbed by the people who were there at the time!" he added hastily as a large number of sinners turned to go west.

"All this sickness from one person's sin! Who could have brought such a terrible thing to our town?"

There were a few murmurs from those in earshot of the flies. 

"THERE SHE IS!!" the fly with the blonde wig pointed to Lawhiney as he hovered above heads of the crowd so everyone could see him. (It was a male fly. Lawhiney could tell by the moustache and the cigar he was smoking.)

"She brought the boy to Distopia and the plague with him!" Another fly yelled through a megaphone. 

There was an ugly stirring along the entire length of the street as the crowd turned towards Lawhiney. 

Lawhiney whimpered and looked to Fidget for help. 

"Well, that's about wraps up your orientation tour." He said rapidly. "Good luck, 'cause you're on your own from here on!" 

"But-" Lawhiney whined. 

The mob gathered itself like a house cat about to spring. Lawhiney snatched up her child and ran. 

"Get the boy!" someone shouted. 

Lawhiney looked over her shoulder and quailed at the ease with which the citizens of Distopia could find and make clubs and torches out of street furniture and shop fronts. When she turned her head back to concentrate on running she saw smiling flies there and realised that the same scene had been played out behind her back. The mob was all around her and there was no escape. 

Quickly she found a shop doorway and crouched in it, covering Roach as best as she could. Angry voices blurred together as the first blows fell and to her great surprise she did not cry out because she was too busy protecting Roach. 

Hands fell on her and began tearing at the once lavender jumpsuit she had borrowed from Gadget's wardrobe. The ever-present soot in the Distopia smog had already stained it nearly black. She felt the material start to come apart and the clawing hands began to find hair and skin. 

"The boy!" someone behind her said. "Get the boy!" 

"NO!" Lawhiney cried out. "It's my sin, punish me! Leave him alone and punish ME!" 

118

Lawhiney thrashed violently in Gadget's bed, the bedclothes knotted around her. 

As he watched the force of her struggles, Geegaw could hardly believe she had an arm in a sling and a broken leg, let alone the other serious injuries that had kept her in hospital for nearly three weeks. Before the Guide could do anything Lawhiney tumbled out of bed and landed with a crash that sent the wheelchair over on its side.

Gasping, she sat up. She looked at her surroundings, hardly daring to believe they were real. 

Somebody moved behind her and she nearly screamed before she saw the familiar moustache and monk's habit of the Guide, Gadget's father.  

For the barest instant Lawhiney relaxed and then a terrible thought struck her. 

"Roach!" She yelled.

Geegaw raised his index finger to his lips to hush her. 

"He's back there with those terrible people!" 

"No, no, no. He's safe and right here inside… this room, where he always was. You had a nightmare. Not an ordinary one by any means but it wasn't real. Not like floor you're sitting on, or the bed you just fell out of." Geegaw tried to reassure her.

Lawhiney looked at him. Just as a human might sweat with terror after waking up from a nightmare, she was panting so hard she could barely talk. 

"I'm sorry!" She told him.

"What, for being upset? I knew you would be upset when you woke up. You wanted to know what it would be like if you died before you straightened yourself out, remember?" Geegaw wished he could at least pat her hand to comfort her.

"I mean for everything!" Lawhiney hugged herself and began rocking backwards and forwards. 

Geegaw straightened himself and looked at her. She meant it, he decided. "You want to change?"

"Right now. Not tomorrow, not in an hour, this instant!" she agreed.

Something like relief flowed through Geegaw. "Are you sure?"

Lawhiney nodded slowly, like a small child who had considered a difficult question but was certain of the answer. 

As if on cue there was a gentle knocking at the door. 

"Gadget-luv? Are you all right? I heard a noise." It was a gentle Australian voice. 

Lawhiney looked at Geegaw with agony written on her face. However much forgiveness her sorrow might buy her with the big feller upstairs there were still earthly consequences to her actions that had to be faced. Choking back a sob, she answered: "Come in."


	19. Gadget Sings the Blues

**_Disclaimer_**

_In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone…  except a certain kind of lawyer._

**Chapter Nineteen**

**Gadget Sings the Blues**

119

Although Gadget had been absentminded about even closing the door when she first moved into the tree house, Monty had insisted that she have a lock on the door for the sake of propriety. In fact, since she was the only one who had the skills to make a lock, he had stood over her until she made sure her door could be secured.  She had made the knob on her bedroom door out of a human being's cufflink. It felt cold to the touch under Monty's paw. He was uncomfortable entering Gadget's room; all too aware that Geegaw's little girl had blossomed into a beautiful young mouse.

Who was, at this moment, sitting on the floor by her bed and staring at him with tears in her eyes.

Monty crossed the room to her side in a moment. "Well now, what's all this?" he asked gently, kneeling beside her.

Gadget burst into tears and buried her face in his chest. 

Monty, a little dismayed by this answer, gingerly patted her on the back until she stopped crying long enough to catch a breath. "Tell Monty what the matter is, Gadget-luv." 

"I'm not your Gadget-luv!" She wailed and hid her face his wool jumper. 

Monty looked hurt. He was only trying to help. Since he didn't know what else to say, he patted Gadget on the back for some time while she sobbed inconsolably. Finally the tears wouldn't come anymore and the only sounds she made were from the dry, shuddering gulps of air when she tried to breathe. 

"There, there." Monty said. "I haven't seen you like this since your dad and I went away to look for your mother and you thought we wouldn't come back." 

"Not true."

"I dare say you've been like this plenty of times when I wasn't around." Monty said darkly, thinking of the year she had spent alone after her father died. "Here, let me get you something." 

The big mouse gently but firmly disengaged Gadget's clinging arms and walked into her bathroom to return a moment later with a glass of water. He held it so that Gadget could sip half of it to help her with the hiccups and the dehydration that the tears had brought. Then he put the glass on the bedside table next to Geegaw's photograph and the bedside lamp and picked up Gadget as easily as if she was a child. He held her the way a husband would carry a bride across a threshold, so that he could put her back into her bed. 

Gadget's eyes never left his face. She did not speak. She watched his every action with the wrapped attention of a child seeing a conjuring trick for the first time. 

"You're a good person, Monterey Jack. I wish I could be as good as you." She said when he had finished tucking her in like an eight year old.

"Hush now, Gadget. You're already better than I ever was." His hand brushed her cheek gently. "Now here, swallow." 

Gadget had opened her mouth to protest the compliment and found two small round pills being placed on her tongue. Before she could juggle them with the need to explain herself further, Monty had put the glass to her lips and was washing the pills down with the rest of the water. 

"You know that everyone's been saying terrible things-" She began as soon as her mouth was clear. 

"Don't you worry about that… there was a girl pretending to be you, just like in Hawaii. They caught her and put her away where she belongs." 

"Uh… Yeah, ha-ha, about that…" As Monty watched Gadget took a deep breath to gather her self and seemed to look over his shoulder, as if taking advice from someone standing behind him. "First off, I think I'm pregnant. In fact, I'm sure of it." 

Monty stared at her blankly. The ears had heard the sound of her speaking but the brain refused to process the words. After a long painful silence he asked: "Gadget… you can tell me, luv, who's the father? Was it when those robbers took you and the Rangerwing?" 

"I don't remember who, or when." Gadget said groggily. The pills were taking effect. 

"Of course, I was forgetting the crash got your memory all shook up. Perhaps that was for the best. Those filthy air-pirates…" Monty rumbled like a volcano.

"Don't be angry. Please, Mister Jack…" 

The words were so like those of the child he had known many years ago, but her voice could have belonged to a stranger. Seeing only the emotion on the face of the girl in front of him, he barely noticed. "You're a good girl, Gadget. I couldn't be angry with you." 

Gadget was shaking her head desperately. "You don' under-sh'tand. I'm – I'm wicked. Evil… I sshould be locked 'way; where t' other Gadget is… you'll explain it to em all, won't you Monty?" 

"Hush, now, Gadget. It's the pills making you talk like this. Those were the strong painkillers I gave you, to help you sleep. Just breathe easy. There'll be time to sort it all out in the morning."

"Promish?" 

"Promish – I mean, I promise." Monty tucked away a stray corner of Gadget's blankets. "Go to sleep, now. I'll stay and watch over you."

"'s' all right.. Geegaw's watching over me…" Her eyelids were drooping.

"Aye, I expect he probably is." Monty stroked her hair and moved out of the room as though he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

120

"Get back here you over-stuffed dumbbell! Are you wearing your flying cap too tight again? She's trying to tell you something important and you act as blind and deaf as a human!" Geegaw raged at his old friend's back. He hadn't been so frustrated since he had realised that he could no longer talk to his daughter. "Lawhiney! Don't go to sleep! Tell him what you were going to say!" 

"Wazzat?" Lawhiney mumbled.

Geegaw groaned miserably. There was, he reflected, a slim chance that his charge would still want to confess everything in the morning. Failing that, she had tried to do make good and that counted for something. 

"Wassa matta, Gee-gee?" 

"He still thinks you're Gadget!" Geegaw complained. "You were supposed to tell him who you really are!"

"You said I should start by tellin' 'im 'bout lil' Roach." Lawhiney pointed out.

Geegaw nodded reluctantly. He had thought it the best way to keep Lawhiney's head attached to her shoulders. 

"Geegaw?" Lawhiney asked. "Will I dream?" 

"What? Oh. No, I'm not going to put you through anything more tonight. You've had enough."

"I don't mind dreamin' if Roach's there…" 

Lawhiney's eyes were large and pleading and, Geegaw reflected, it might help her finish what she had started when she woke up… No. He had made that mistake before when he showed her too much of what might happen if she didn't reform. It had done more harm than good that time and he would not repeat the error. Instead he would make sure she had a dreamless sleep and watch over her through the night. By dawn he would have had time to think over this latest setback. 

"Sleep." He told Lawhiney and the last thing she saw as she drifted into darkness was the twinkle in his eyes shining brighter than the stars outside Gadget's window.

121

Gadget was woken by the sound of rushing water. She lay still for a moment with her eyes shut, halfway between sleep and full awareness. Usually this would be a comfortable, peaceful time for her before the rigours of a busy day but she wasn't in her own bed. Instead she was cold, damp and uncomfortable. The part of her that remembered being a baby safe in her mother's arms felt cheated and squalled at her from behind a curtain of sleep.

Where am I? 'S bad-thing to wake up and not know where you are. Itches… something flat and hard pressing against my shoulder… a wall. Feels rough and cold… like stone. Not wood. If [wall=stone]=true then [location=Ranger HQ]=false. Why am I itching? 

The sounds of prison life told Gadget where she was before she opened her eyes. Although she had been in prison for nearly three weeks this was the first time she had woken up in a real cell. People were walking past her bed, inches away from her head, and in a moment she was going to have to get dressed as they went by.

Gadget squeezed her eyes even more tightly shut and tried to sink deeper into her bunk with a groan. A shock ran through her bunk as Bubbles began kicking it. 

"Wakey-wakey! Rise and shine, Red." Bubbles called. "You dress now or dress in front of a crowd. Actually, don't dress. Just put your bathrobe on and follow me to the flea dip and the showers… or you'll have to sit around in wet clothes all day." 

Gadget winced at Bubbles through a single bloodshot eye. Her head hurt. Her mouth felt furrier than her backside. Her stomach felt watery and had scrunched itself into a tight ball of muscle at the centre of her body. She was unfamiliar with the sensations but from the descriptions she had heard from Monty she recognized a hangover. Her second hangover, counting the one she had got the day after she was old enough to drink. 

Shuddering slightly from nausea, Gadget reluctantly pulled herself out of bed. A moment later she was wearing a shower robe. Remembering the routine from her first morning in jail, she neatly folded her uniform and placed it on top of an economy quality towel, which she balanced on one hand as she made her way down the corridor to the showers.

"Remember last time. Don't complain, don't suggest you don't need the flea bath because you haven't got fleas – I saw you scratching by the way – and… keep your eyes on your feet when we go through the shower. I think that's best for now. You're still green, no matter how well you handled Roxie." Bubbles fired off instructions like a drill sergeant or, Gadget suddenly blinked at the resemblance, like Chip trying to keep Dale out of trouble.

The flea dip was cold and still stung her eyes even though she kept them tightly closed. Aware that her head was crawling, she made sure her hair was thoroughly soaked in the sea green mix of pesticide and water. Then she dragged herself up the steps at the far end of the flea bath and staggered into the shower room. 

The shower room was roughly eighteen inches square with three sprinkler heads hanging over the four large white ceramic tiles that covered the floor. On her last trip through Gadget had been nearly blind from the flea dip; this time she could see well enough to make out several pairs of eyes staring resentfully at her through the steam. At the end of the shower room were three faces she recognised from the party: Molly and the twins. 

"Don't dawdle. You'll hold everyone up." Bubbles told her firmly and nudged her towards the end of the showers. 

Rinsing her hair under the sprinklers as best as she could, Gadget made her way over the little group by the exit. She knew something was going on but couldn't say what.

"Thanks guys." Bubbles opened the conversation. 

"'S okay. Don't get the idea we can keep on doing this though, 'cause we can't. Wouldn't be fair, even if we could." Molly said as she washed. 

"We were all green once." One of the twins smiled.

"It's just for a couple of days." Bubbles said. "'till she's used to being in with the general population." 

Gadget eyed the others with the strong suspicion that the "she" being referred to was herself, until she noticed the other twin eyeing her back in an alarming way. She spun away and washed herself as rapidly as possible, then fled as Molly's laughter echoed behind her.  

As she dressed, Gadget noticed she wasn't the only one to make a quick exit from the showers. She was hoping to finish dressing before the twins came out but she needn't have worried. By the time she was tying her laces they still hadn't emerged. 

_What can they be doing in there?_

Gadget caught the question half-formed in her mind and instantly knew that once, not very long ago, she would have asked it aloud. She found herself imagining the part of her that could ask questions like that with a straight face as "the old Gadget Hackwrench", a tiny replica of the person she had been before someone had stolen her life away. She looked sideways at her imaginary double, weighing up it's strengths and weaknesses as she would a cog or a piece of metal she was about to include in a new machine. 

The old Gadget had been naive enough to accept a doped drink from a stranger. Neither Monty, nor Chip, nor Zipper would have been that careless. That put the old Gadget in the same category as Dale. Was that where she wanted to be?

The old Gadget had floundered her way through the legal system like a poor country mouse being rushed through a bogus sightseeing tour of the big city by a fast talking scam artist. She had been so certain that the legal system couldn't fail… just like all the people who had sent her here. Assuming she was a Rescue Ranger again one day, did she want to put someone else through what she had been suffered?

The old Gadget had been such an innocent that the others, even Monty, hadn't felt able to come to her when the rumours had started. She had blamed them for that and been blind to her own part in that but she could see it clearly now. God only knew what else they had kept from her over the years… 

Isn't three weeks a little quick for a person to completely change? The old Gadget chided her gently. 

_I might have been Geegaw's innocent little princess when they found me but, given that for the last six years I've been dealing with crooks, crazies and hysterical disaster victims, isn't six years a little long for me to stay an innocent little princess? I've been changing on the inside for a long time. I just didn't notice because I've been so busy, so… absentminded. _

That kind of absentmindedness was vintage Gadget Hackwrench. The only question was did she still want to be that way?

The old Gadget Hackwrench was fading bit by bit but she hadn't gone completely. _Since you feel that way, is it okay if I ask why BUBBLES is taking such a long time in the shower?_ She snipped as she disappeared.  

The "new and improved" Gadget's eyes popped. Surely not…?

Five minutes later Gadget felt a hand slap down on the shoulder of her prison uniform and spun to find Bubbles grinning broadly at her. 

"Hanging around outside the showers is a no-no, Red. People will get the wrong idea about you. Our cell isn't that far away and from what I saw last night you know how to handle yourself, so why wait for me?" 

"I waited here because I didn't know where the- do they call it a dining room or a cafeteria? You know, where we eat breakfast?" 

"Dining room. You make it sound like we're staying at some rich relative's manor house. It's called a mess hall because that's what they feed us. A mess. And besides, it's six thirty. Breakfast isn't until eight. Work starts at nine." 

"Work?"

"They don't just leave us sitting around in our cells all day. That would be too much of torture even for them. There's a laundry, a mailbag factory, a print shop and a dry cleaning service in Shrankshaw. Don't get ideas about getting rich though. You get more for washing dishes on the outside than for breaking your back in here. Trust me, I've done both." 

"You washed dishes on the outside?" 

"Yeah. A restaurant. Little place run by someone who was a pal, an honest pal, before I went away." 

"You mean before you got caught." 

Bubbles silenced Gadget with a glare and led the way back to their cell. 

"So… Is there a machine shop I can get work in?" Gadget asked finally breaking the silence.

"In a men's prison maybe. They don't let us con's do co-ed though, strangely enough… you got some idea of building a big machine to tunnel out of here the first time the guards get distracted?" Bubbles watched her cellmate's reaction out of the corner of her eye. 

"Well, more that once I demonstrate what I can build, they'll realise…"

"You still think you're Gadget Hackwrench, don't you?" Bubbles accused flatly. 

Gadget's ears sank and she looked guilty. "Yes. I think you can assume that I'm always going to."

"_Reeeed_!" Bubbles groaned as she climbed up onto the top bunk. 

"I'm sorry you don't like that."

"What's not to like? I'm sharing a cell with a crazy person who might decide to cut my throat one night because the little voices told her to!"

"I think that's schizophrenia you're thinking of, not delusional tendencies." Gadget frowned trying to remember the right terminology. She had never much cared for psychiatry as a science because you couldn't actually see the cogs turning. 

"Not my point, Red. You know I don't like hearing about it and neither will anyone else in here. Strange as it may seem, people are not selected to become prison inmates because they demonstrate the qualities of kindness and understanding. Particularly not for people who are different." Bubbles gave Gadget a significant look.

Gadget flushed uncomfortably. "Is that what I am? Different?" 

"I'll say. Half the time it's like you're in outer space or something. Day dreaming or thinking or whatever you want to call it, it's not healthy for you not to be paying attention in this place. My youngest boy's like that…" Bubbles was still for a moment. "But when you are paying attention, oh boy do you make it obvious. Someone's going to bust you right in the face before too long if you stick your nose into their business." 

"Speaking of which…? You asked the others to help you with something back in the showers… it was something to do with me, wasn't it?"

Bubbles sighed. "There's been some curiosity about you. Gadget Hackwrench is quite the celebrity. And you're such a… I don't know, such an innocent, I guess. That draws people. " Bubbles mused for a moment. "Jaded, hungry people… the kind that can't help putting their paw prints all over something that's right 'cause that's the only way they can experience it. People who can't remember ever having been good, or innocent, themselves." 

"I get the idea!" Gadget said hastily. 

"Good, you'd better have the idea. I'm going to work in a few minutes. You've got the whole day here. You can spend it thinking about how you're going to try and fit in with everyone."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I asked the others to make sure there was horseplay in the showers while you were there. That's all."

"Horseplay? With me?" 

"At all. Until we're sure that you won't take one look at what's going on and run screaming at the walls, anyway. After that, just keep your head down, don't look directly at anyone else and just glare at anyone who talks to you in there. And don't linger. That should see you right, whether I'm around or not." 

"Thanks." Gadget said after a while. "For, well, for the advice and… protecting me. But I'm not that fragile. Whether you think I'm crazy or not, I've got through some tough times when you weren't around to look after me, so you don't have to." 

"Yeah, I kinda figured that when you stuck up Roxie with her own knife last night." 

Gadget gently trapped her lower lip between her front teeth. It wasn't a bite – a bite by rodent standards would have left her without any lower lip to speak of – but it was enough to trap it and stop it moving without her brain's permission. She did this because she had a question that she was determined not to ask.

"You'll probably get real bored stuck in here all day but the library trolley will come by at ten and you can pick out something to read. They'll probably set you up with a job next Monday… they do that sort of stuff weekly. Have a think about where you want to work until then." Bubbles said.

Gadget obeyed and opened her mouth to ask Bubbles what the chances were of getting a job in the library, which sounded more interesting than any of the other things Bubbles had mentioned. Instead her mouth asked, traitorously: "What were you doing in the showers all that time I was waiting for you?" 

122

Bubbles' expression hardened as she continued to stare at the graffiti over her bunk. From below came a sound something like: "GLURK!" which she presumed was Red trying to swallow the sentence that had just escaped from her mouth. And after she had told the little airhead to keep her nose out of other peoples business so nicely…

Bubbles rolled easily off the bunk and landed smoothly on her feet. She folded her arms to give Red the look she called "angry mom glare #9". It was the look she used for children who had done something they had specifically been told not to do and which common sense should have told them was a bad idea.

Red quailed. 

Bubbles continued the stare for a moment or two, to keep Red in suspense and give her imagination time to go to work. Not too long. They'd both get the giggles. She'd made that mistake with her eldest daughter once and that particular look hadn't worked since. 

Red started trying to talk. "Oh, ah, I, uh, I'm so, so…" 

Bubbles held up a paw to forestall Red's apology. Red stopped and for a moment Bubbles continued to say and do nothing, just to see how much control Red had over her mouth. 

About three seconds worth, apparently.

"Bubbles, I am so sorry! I didn't mean to say that! IT JUST SLIPPED OUT!"

Bubbles place the tip of her index finger on Red's lips. "Shhh." She leaned close. "Was I imagining it a few minutes ago when I told you to be careful about sticking your nose into other people's business? Or was I just talking to myself?" she spoke in a low voice that was steady and calm. "Perhaps you stepped out to get coffee and a Danish from Starbuck's while I was talking and I didn't notice? Is that what happened?"

Red blinked. She was clearly having difficulty dealing with this new, angry version of Bubbles. "Uh, no, Bubbles. That's not what happened." 

Bubbles looked at her friend and shook her head in wonderment. "What did happen, Red? Really, tell me. I want to know."

"I…" Red looked thoroughly miserable. "I was thinking about how I've changed in here, how I was so naive when I came in." 

"As opposed to how you are now, three weeks later, after the many interesting, educational experiences you had bouncing off the rubber walls in the special wing?" 

Red looked reproachful. "That's not fair, Bubbles. You know I don't belong in that place. And I _have_ changed."

"Oh. I see. You've changed… so just now, when you asked me that question, that's example of how you're smarter and more experienced now?"

"No… I didn't mean to ask that. That was the old Gadget…" 

"Who?"

"I mean Red, that was the old Red that asked that." Gadget hung her ears and tail woefully. Nobody had ever made her feel this bad before. Not even Geegaw when she had been really clever and inventive without adequate supervision and safety precautions. 

"If that's an example of how good you are at looking after yourself now, someone really is going to bust you in the face before long. I don't know, Red, maybe it would be better coming from me. What do you think?" 

Red suddenly seemed to find her feet very interesting. Her ears and cheeks were certainly burning, to judge by their colour. Another minute or so, Bubbles judged, and if Red could avoid saying anything stupid they might be able to end the day as friends.

"I asked what you think, Red? Would you learn better if I smacked you in the mouth?"

"Officer Haggs already tried that." Red said quietly. 

Bubbles swallowed and felt like a heel. "That's right, I'd forgotten. Has that healed up now?"

Red nodded. "Yes. Just about."

"Are you sure? It looks swollen." 

"That's where she hit me to stop me running away from the electroshock session."

Bubbles blinked. "Electroshock session?" 

"Uh, I assumed everyone knew about that… I think Haggs faked Doctor Schadenfreude's name on an order to have me given electroshock therapy."

"Yeah, well I wouldn't put it past her but that's not what we were talking about." Bubbles sighed and put her hands on Red's shoulders. She eased Red down to sit on the lower bunk and then sat next to her. "Look Red, I'm sorry if I was hard on you there. It's just… a person like you could come to some real harm in here. And I don't want to see that. When I was at the lowest point of my whole life, in tears on the prison barge, fifteen years without my kids ahead of me, there you were. And you were sympathetic, Red. That means a lot to me."

"I know you just want to look out for me Bubbles." Red said uneasily. 

"I tell you something else, I thought nobody on that barge could be worse off than I was. Then I heard you talking. Fifteen years for your first offence and the way you were just so sure you were going home soon. And there you were feeling sorry for me!" Bubbles put an arm across Red's shoulders and felt them go rigid under the unexpected contact. Bubbles suddenly realised that Red's whole body was tense. Frowning, Bubbles tried massaging the muscles between Red's neck and shoulders. "Hmm. Looks like you really do want to know what I was up to in the showers this morning." Bubbles quipped.

Red flushed and hung her head miserably. 

"Hmm." Bubbles considered teasing Red with an outrageous lie but decided against it. "Well, I suppose there's only one answer I can give you. Are you sure you want to hear it?" 

Red looked at her warily. "You don't have to tell me, but yes. I want to hear it."

"The only honest answer is… IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!" 

Red blinked at Bubbles. Then her lips twitched into a wry smile. "Heh. You're right. It's none of my business and I'm sorry for asking, for even thinking about it." 

Bubbles laughed along with her. "Awww, heck. That's okay, Red. I saw your expression when we introduced the twins. First time you run into their type you can get real twitchy about it, if you let yourself. You start seeing it everywhere, _including places it's not_. I got that way, my first time inside."  

"You did?"

"Sure – and the twins… well, they love to tease new arrivals. Don't let it get to you. They've been together for years. So have a lot of people like them. They were together before you were here and, God willing, they'll be together when you and I finally leave, so the world really isn't any different from how it was before you met them."  

"I certainly can't argue with that. It's just… well, it's not what other people are doing with each other that bothers me." 

"Oh, except when it's me, huh? What are you, jealous?" Bubbles nudged Red in the ribs. 

"Ah ha." Red forced a laugh. "No, of course not… it's just… I mean I know you have kids on the outside so, it occurred to me, does everyone behind bars end up the same way as the twins sooner or later?" 

Bubbles nearly fell over laughing. "Oh boy! Did you have a flash of the two of us being here for ten years and ending up like the twins or something?" 

Red's face blushed a deeper red than her hair. "Uh, something like that." She buried her face in her hands and shrivelled before Bubbles's eyes. 

Bubbles watched and laughed until her breath ran out. "Uh, Red, we already agreed that what I did in the shower this morning was none of your business. But if it'll put your mind at rest – all I actually did was gossip with my friends and wash the grime from the fight out of my fur." 

Red peeked up at her in disbelief. "THAT'S ALL?"

"Not that it's any of your business. I mean if I or anyone else wanted to take a shower or do anything else, it's nothing to do with you, right?" Bubbles smiled at her.

"So you've never…?"

Angry mom look number #2 ought to do it, thought Bubbles. "I _said_: It's none of your business…"

124

Monty stacked the pancakes one on top of the other and put the plate down next to the thimble of maple syrup that was already on the kitchen table. It was a beautiful morning – they were being treated to the last of the summer weather as the year rolled down hill into autumn. 

Chip yawned widely and began grating a coffee bean. He was still half asleep and barely caught his mistake when he stopped grating when he had only enough coffee grounds for one person. He had gotten used to being the only coffee drinker in the house in the short time that he had been home and Gadget had been in the hospital. 

Dale went to the icebox – despite Gadget's best efforts the closest thing to a mouse-sized refrigerator was still a small thermos flask lined with dry ice – and took out a bottle of milk. He up-ended it over a bowl containing three cornflakes (crushed to make chipmunk sized cornflakes) only to find that the milk came out as a quarter inch long yellow cylinder of something that made Monty go: "CHHHEHeheheZZZZZZ!!!"

"I keep telling you to put the top back on the bottle!" Chip complained as Monty plunged across the kitchen, scattering cutlery. 

Dale gulped loudly and surrendered the bottle into Monty's eager, grabbing hands. Monty sniffed loudly at the proto-cheese sticking out of the bottle and his moustache curled. Slapping the bottom of the bottle with a meaty palm, the big mouse emptied the proto-cheese over two pieces of toast and spread it around thickly with the butter knife.

Zipper buzzed into the kitchen with a triumphant look in his eyes. He stood to attention on the ceiling and mimed blowing a trumpet to the accompaniment of a fanfare of buzzing from his wings. As if on cue, Gadget entered. 

She was still in her wheelchair but the arm that had been dislocated in the crash of the Ranger Plane was no longer in a sling. Slowly, carefully, she steered the chair to the end of the kitchen table and brought it to a stop. The lower seat of the wheelchair left her breastbone level with the edge of the table.

"Thank you, Zipper." She smiled, her voice deep and rough and not at all like Gadget's. 

Dale beamed at her with his chipmunk tail wagging wildly. "Wowie, Gadget! Is your arm better already?" 

"Uh, it's improving. But there's something I wanted to tell you." Gadget replied with her voice still gruff and her expression deeply troubled. 

"Hush, Gadget. That can wait until after breakfast." Monty told her and pushed the plate of pancakes and maple syrup under her nose. 

A look of indecision clouded Gadget's face. Clearly she was wrestling with some dilemma, but there was no mistaking her hunger when she looked at the pancakes. "I have been craving maple syrup lately." She admitted.

"Gee, should I take that as a compliment?" Chip smiled and ran a hair through his hair. He didn't wear his hat at the table – it was bad manners. 

Lawhiney allowed her eyes to be drawn to his chestnut coloured hair. He wore it in a short, conservative cut that blended well with his natural fur colour. She remembered kissing him in Hawaii when it had been that or allow him to uncover her ruse the first time she impersonated Gadget. She had felt quite a thrill. She liked them big, dumb and strong. Chip wasn't. He was large for a chipmunk at best, smart (dangerously so) and medium-strong on a bad day. 

It was the smart that had sent the thrill through her back then and that sent it through her again now, as she saw him looking at her across the breakfast table. Chip was dangerous to her. If anyone was going to catch her, it was going to be him. She remembered his speech at the hospital when she had been convinced he was about to haul her off to jail. The way that he hadn't seen through her right there and then still didn't seem quiet real. 

Then Lawhiney's eyes met Chip's and something that she had guessed before in a distant, theoretical way was suddenly clear to her. 

This chipmunk was in love with the real Gadget Hackwrench. 

In a big way.

He was in love with Gadget and a treacherous thought insinuated: for the moment _she_ was Gadget. Such an obvious truth; realizing it was like discovering a freight train had snuck up on her and was looming large over her shoulder. When Lawhiney hadn't been able to pull the wool over Chip's eyes his emotions, or his libido, had gotten in his way and done the job for her. 

Well, thanks-be-to-Mickey. Or Whoever. It probably just meant that he would beat her all the harder when she told the truth. She'd expect the same of Monty but for the gentleness he had shown her when she confessed her pregnancy to him. Perhaps he would intervene if the chipmunks got too rough with her. Or perhaps he'd join in when he found out she wasn't Gadget. Either way, she didn't expect to get out of this without bruises. There was only one Monty and there were two chipmunks even if there was more of Monty to go around. 

"He'll be a lot tougher on himself than he will on you, kid." A wry voice murmured from just behind her right ear.

Lawhiney almost turned before she realised it was Geegaw, her guide and Gadget's father, and that it would look funny to the others if she turned to look at something they couldn't see. Even so her eyes disobeyed her strict instructions not to look and peeped sideways at him while she sat stiff-necked in her wheelchair, the pancakes directly in front of her now dripping maple syrup. 

"However hard you think telling the truth is going to be, Lawhiney… it will seem so much easier once it's done." Geegaw pressed.

Yeah, Lawhiney thought, the hardest part of getting hung is climbing the gallows. It's all-downhill from there. 

No matter how reassuringly Geegaw put it, it came down to this: in one of the potential futures Lawhiney was considering there were pancakes and maple syrup. In the other, there wasn't. 

I could always eat the pancakes and then confess, Lawhiney mused. No, then Monty would kill me for sure. He's looking sideways at me as it is.

"I, uh, made an appointment for you with the doctor this afternoon, Gadget-luv. I mean, Gadget." The mouse rumbled from his side of the table, not quite meeting her eye. He met Chip's eye though and threw a glare back at the chipmunk for the detective's expression of dismay and interest. 

Lawhiney blinked at him. For a split second she wondered if Geegaw had spilled the beans to Monty and she was being reassured that she would be get patched up by an expert after she told the chipmunks who she really was. Then she remembered falling out of bed the night before and realised that Monty was concerned for her baby. 

For the first time Lawhiney had something in common with a Rescue Ranger that wasn't superficial. It felt like seeing the path home after being lost in dark woods for a long time. 

She smiled at him. 

"Go on, tell them." Urged Geegaw in hushed tones. 

Lawhiney opened her mouth… 

And said nothing. 

She just couldn't see the Rangers taking her to hospital after hearing a confession of landing Gadget in jail. Not unless they had to after they were done with her. Nor could she pass up on having a doctor make sure her baby was well. Afterwards, she silently promised. Afterwards, she would tell them everything.

The Rangers were staring at her, no doubt waiting for their beloved Gadget to say something heart-warming. 

Lawhiney picked up her fork, skewered a mouthful of syrupy pancake and popped it into her mouth. 

125

Lawhiney sat miserably on the examination table and buttoned her shirt. _Gadget's_ shirt. Whatever. She suspected that her appointment was actually taking place in the Doctor's lunch hour, the only time the busy packrat had at such short notice. 

Doctor Bell thanked the bat that had done the ultrasound examination as she left the room. In his right hand he held the bat's shaky and smudged drawing of Lawhiney's unborn child. As the door closed, he considered the portrait with a worried frown and wished that God had seen fit to give only species that could "see" with ultrasound hands to draw with instead of wings.

"I'm thinking of baby names." Lawhiney said.

"Oh?"

"The one I like is kinda unusual… what do you think of Roach?"

"Huh?" Doctor Bell was jolted out of his reverie. "Roche? Isn't that a French name?" 

"Uh…" Lawhiney flushed.  

"Of course! Name of a human scientist isn't it? As in the Roche limit; something to do with planets or astronomy, if I remember my high school physics correctly." He pronounced the name like "rush" but with an "o" instead of a "u". 

Lawhiney didn't need a second prompting. It sounded like just the kind of name Gadget would choose. "Yes, Roche. Like the astronomer." 

"Sounds like a good name." The doctor was too distracted by the ultrasound pictures to think ahead to the trouble Roche might one day have in the schoolyard. 

Lawhiney watched his expression carefully. "What's up, Doc?"

"You have no idea how often I hear that line. Okay, Gadget. I know you have first aid skills at least, because of your work as a Rescue Ranger, but how much do you actually know about pregnancy?"

"Less than I probably should. Please, tell me what you would tell any young mother." 

"Okay, that makes it easy. If you look up mouse pregnancy in a human text book, it will tell you that mice give birth to a litter of usually between eight to fourteen babies after a pregnancy lasting roughly three weeks or a little under. Naturally that doesn't hold good for "higher", thinking species of rodents such as you and I. Not that I'm likely to get pregnant, of course." Doctor Bell chuckled nervously, inviting her to do the same. 

To Lawhiney, a practiced fraud and manipulator, it sounded like a well-worn quip used to break the tension at a difficult moment. Any comparison between "thinking animals" and the "thoughtless beasts of the wild" made for uncomfortable listening to a civilized rodent. To make such a comparison in polite company in a way that touched on the subject of reproduction was asking for a slap in the face.   

"Pregnancy takes longer in thinking species because our brains are more complex and take longer to form, or so we like to believe. In your race, that means thirty-eight to forty-two days – double what it would be for a non-thinking mouse." 

The doctor continued. "For the same reason, our babies tend to take up more resources as they grow and, as a result, our kind has much smaller litters than the mice in human textbooks. That's actually a blessing because larger brains mean larger heads, which results in a more complicated labour than for non-thinking rodents. Though litters of six aren't all that rare, they tend to be rough on the mother. Not to mention how hectic it can be afterwards with all those little ankle-biters tearing up the house and all those hungry mouths to feed." 

Doctor Bell chuckled again. Again, Lawhiney did not respond.

"Anyway, twins and triplets tend to be more common than single births. I'm afraid our ultrasound expert can only detect one child. Now, it might be that there was only ever one child in your litter but I'm afraid a more likely possibility is that little… Roche… is the only one who stuck around after the crash."

Lawhiney was shocked and in spite of her experience at maintaining a front, it showed. "I killed my kids when I crashed the Ranger Plane?" 

"Hey, hey, hey! It's possible that there was only ever one baby in the litter. Don't go beating yourself up over doing what you had to. Especially not over something that we'll never know for sure, one way or the other."

Lawhiney felt cold. "What else do I need to know?"

"From the ultrasound I think your about twenty days in so far. So, maybe only another three weeks to wait." Doctor Bell smiled as though labour was something to look forward to.

"If I was a wild mouse, I'd be giving birth right now and my worries would be over." Lawhiney remarked, too distracted to consider what she was saying.

"Hey, look on the bright side: At least you're not human. Their pregnancies last nine months and the babies can weigh over nine pounds each!" Doctor Bell kidded her. "Have you had any more flashbacks, by the way? How are you sleeping?"

"I had nightmares last night." Lawhiney said, truthfully.

"That's to be expected… your mind's way of coming to terms with the trauma while you sleep. It's a good thing. If they get too bad or keep you up too much, then I'll prescribe a light sedative and perhaps some counselling. Your feelings about the crash need to be expressed." Doctor Bell paused, considering. "I see you removed the sling from your arm. How's that working for you?"

"It was fine this morning, but actually it's aching now." Lawhiney told him.

"It may just be tiredness. Remember you haven't used the muscles for weeks. Let me see the range of motion you have on your arm." The doctor took Lawhiney's arm and gently manipulated it, testing for weakness or pain. 

"How much longer is it going to be before I can walk?" Lawhiney asked. "It seems like I'm taking forever to heal."

"You asked me that before, I seem to recall. Well, as I was saying earlier, you're lucky you're not human. Bigger bones mean bigger breaks and the more damaged tissue there is the longer someone takes to heal. You'd be looking at a recovery time of well over a year if you were human."

"Doc, if I was human the fall would have killed me in the first place, so let's not worry about it." 

"True… the saying in medical circles is that a given fall will cause a mouse to be stunned, a rat to be killed, a human to be broken and a horse to _splash_." Doctor Bell told her absently. 

Lawhiney shivered. "It was a miracle." 

"Yes. You fell about fifty feet, though most of it must have been with the Ranger Plane to slow your fall. It's the only way to explain how the hijackers lived through it too. As far as I can tell the head injury isn't as serious as we first feared. That was our main worry. The broken tailbone should take four weeks in total to heal so long as you don't stress it. Call it a week and you should be able take the splint off. The ribs will take longer. How's the breathing? Does it hurt?"

"Only when I laugh." 

"How much laughing are you doing?"

"These days? Hardly any."

"Your broken leg should be ready to take your full weight in another two weeks. Until then you can get about on a crutch. You're lucky the broken leg isn't on the same side as the dislocated shoulder or you wouldn't be able to use a crutch for another week, at least. You're making a quick recovery as it is. You can take the crutch with you when you go today but I'd leave it until tomorrow before starting to use it."

The doctor considered things for a moment longer and then added: "It goes without saying that you won't be able to go outside. You won't be able to avoid predators."

Lawhiney nodded submissively. It was faked entirely. She had been trying to decide whether to tell the Rangers the truth in the hospital where medical staff might frown on pregnant people being beaten to a pulp, or wait until they got home to Ranger HQ where there would less chance of them having enough people to form an actual lynch mob. 

But now she had a different plan… 

With a few days practice with the crutch she might be able to leave the Ranger HQ and slip away into the night. She only had to get as far as a rodent bus stop or a sewer with a regular ferry service. From there getting to the docks would be simple. The only problem would be the money for the ticket and she was sure she could get that, if not from Gadget's room then with some of the hidden stash from the last small town her gang had robbed. 

She could find a small, quiet town somewhere and raise Roche as her own. She'd tell people she was a widow, find some big dumb guy who was easy to twist around her little finger and settle down to lead a respectable life. Heck, she'd even go to church every Sunday to make up for not turning herself in, if it made Geegaw and his boss happy. 

She turned the plan over in her mind. Yes, it would work. She'd need to practice with the crutch in secret. That would give her a head start at least. Gadget would have to take care of herself a little longer…

Freedom beckoned. 

126

Bubbles slouched along the corridor back to her cell. It had been a long hard day in the prison laundry and her shoulders were aching. When she got back to her cell she almost took a step backwards when she saw someone already inside waiting for her. Oh yeah, that was right. It wasn't _her_ cell anymore. It was _their_ cell; hers and crazy Red's. 

"Hey, Bubbles." Red grinned at her. "Guess what? I made a new friend today."

An ominous feeling crept over Bubbles. It occurred to her that she had actually spent only a single evening with Red, and she was forming the dreadful suspicion that her new cellmate was always this cheerful. 

"Her name's Mary. Mary, say hi to Bubbles." Red carried on regardless.

Bubbles half expected Red to bring out a glove puppet and start talking out of the side of her mouth. Instead a croaky voice began to echo along the corridor from several cells away. "Hi there Bubbles. Did you just come back from the laundry?" 

For a split second Bubbles didn't recognise the voice, then she pinned it down. Mary was the cellblock screamer who had nightmares most nights and who woke everyone else up if someone wasn't quick to shove a pillow over her face or gently tell her where she was before she started screaming. Bubbles hadn't recognized the voice because she wasn't used to hearing it used for conversation. 

"Hello Mary." Bubbles said reluctantly. Other people would hear her talking to the screamer, which wasn't a smart social move.

"Your cellmate's been talking to me all day." Mary said.

"I'm sorry – "

"Oh, don't be. People hardly ever talk to me." Mary cut her off. 

_That's because every week you wake up the whole place screaming at the walls for no reason!_ Bubbles thought. She hated admitting it to herself but she knew in her heart that Mary's cries would be more painful now she could picture a real person making them. _Thanks a lot, Red!_

"Hey, Red, show Bubbles what we've been working on this afternoon." Mary called.

"Mary was a music teacher on the outside, before there was a little misunderstanding about an accidental fire. I think she has grounds for an appeal, myself. After all if something's an accident…" 

"Never mind, I wouldn't want to bring bad memories back for Mary. Or give her false hope." At the back of Bubbles' mind a quieter voice added: Didn't some people _die_ in that completely accidental fire? Red opened her mouth to argue but Bubbles saw it coming and cut her off. "What was it you wanted to show me?"

Red's face lit up. "Oh. Okay. Hit it, girls."

Mary's voice beat out time and then she began banging her cup against the bars of her cell in a steady rhythm. From somewhere the sound of a mouth organ started to wail. Then Red began to sing in a low voice that Bubbles never would have believed in a million years belonged to her cellmate. 

_Ooohhhhh – I hear that tramp's a looker, and gone and stole my friends _

_and I ain't seen the sunshine since I don't know when._

_I'm stuck at Shrankshaw Prison and how I long to be free, _

_but that tramp keeps on living the life she stole from me!_

When I was just a baby, my daddy told me, "Child,  
Always be a good girl; don't ever wear a badge."  
But I became a Rescue Ranger, and convicted on a lie.  
When I think about that floozy, I hang my head and cry.

I bet that tramp's a playin' with all my tools I fear.  
She' prob'ly drinkin' coffee and blowin' in Chip's ear.  
I never had this comin', but I know I can't be free,  
And that floozy keeps a livin' the life she stole from me.

Well, if they freed me from this prison and I could find that lousy tramp,  
I bet I'd lose my temper and pound her flatter than a stamp!  
Far from Shrankshaw Prison, that's where I long to stay,  
And I'd let my many inventions work my blues away."

Bubbles couldn't quite keep from chuckling. 

"She likes it. Thanks girls!" Red called to her Mary and the other, un-introduced friend.

"Ah, Red. What would it take to bring you down?" Bubbles sighed.

"Well, gee. If you mean literally then I tried to make a break for it just after my trial and they got me with a 750mm reel glue/plunger dart crossbow." 

Bubbles shook her head. "You're lucky they didn't tack another five years onto your sentence right there and then."

"I expect they would have, if they had thought of it. They were mad enough. It never crossed my mind. Ya' know that's one of the things that really bothers me about this situation. Gadget Hackwrench could get out of here in an hour, tops. On the outside of this place, even being hunted by the police, it wouldn't be that difficult for a Rescue Ranger to prove who they were. There are hidden caches of equipment, clothes, food and medical supplies..." 

"All over the city, I know, and people take it really seriously if you find and mess with any of them, because of what the Rangers need them for." Bubbles reminded her. 

"I can find someone who knew me before, when I was Gadget, they'll believe me." 

"You're talking about Gadget Hackwrench in the second person there." Bubbles pointed out. 

Red absentmindedly blinked at her.  "Am I? Perhaps that's because everyone else has been for so long. I can't hold back the tide forever. But on the outside there are a lot of people in this city who know me, people who I can get to even if I can't get to the Rangers. People who will help me, Bubbles!"

"You worry me when you talk like this, Red. You know whatever you had going on the outside, no matter how sweet it was, it's over now. You've got to let go and start making a life for yourself here, or you're just not going to get by." 

"Bubbles, it's good to know that even in here there are people who care. But I need to get back to my life while I still think of it as, well, my life." 

Bubbles sighed and patted Red on the shoulder. "Okay, Red. Whatever. But in the meantime, it looks like they've got you in line for a laundry job." 

"Laundry?" Red's face fell.

"What's the matter, you never do laundry before?"

"Dad used to. After I lost him I built a machine to do the laundry for me but it ended up eating all my clothes instead. It was so embarrassing, I had to wait until a door-to-door salesman came by and persuade him to go get some clothes to sell me. Then he went out and told all his door-to-door-salesman buddies even after I swore him to secrecy."

Bubbles fell over laughing. "Now that I CAN believe! I can practically SEE you doing something like that."

Red blushed lightly under her fur and watched her friend laugh. "Sure, you can see me inventing a clothes eating robot but you can't believe I'm Gadget Hackwrench." She complained.

"That's because you aren't Gadget Hackwrench. I bet everything she invents works first time. Or nearly first time." Bubbles rolled her eyes at her but with a smile. "Besides, she's a Rescue Ranger. She only invents stuff to help catch crooks and maybe to rescue people if she's in a good mood." 

Red frowned and looked sideways at Bubbles. "You really see her that way?" 

"Yes, and it's about time you realised that there are a lot of the people in here who don't see Gadget Hackwrench as some good, admirable person they should want to be like. In fact, I doubt most of the people in the city even think of her as a good, admirable person." Bubbles was warming to her theme now.

"Shucks, I don't think most of the people in the city have even heard of me. Especially if you count humans as people, though I suppose that's debatable since they don't count us as people – "

"Red, you're doing it again, and I doubt the real Hackwrench would be that naïve."

"Doing what?"

"Talking like you think you're Gadget Hackwrench, which is a bad idea even if you do really think you're Gadget Hackwrench – for ANY reason – as I and other patient people have explained to you many, many times now. So many times that I'm sick of repeating it." Bubbles gave her cellmate a hard stare – not her patent-pending angry mom stare but a stern one she reserved for children who hadn't yet even thought of doing wrong but who probably would later, in her absence, and reconsider on remembering her expression.

"Sorry." Gadget apologised automatically without really thinking about what she was apologising for: Being herself. 

Bubbles kicked her feet back and stretched out on her prison bunk. It felt comfortable, a sure sign it had been a hard day. "S' okay. Let's try and make this the last time though. What were you saying before?"

"That I, that is Gadget, could get out of here inside an hour but only by betraying her principles and committing a crime. Escaping lawful custody at best, maybe even assaulting a guard or worse. There's no point in breaking out to unmask an impostor if you're going to get thrown back in the slammer as a thank you." 

Bubbles was getting sleepy and allowed herself to be drawn into her friend's "fantasy". "No, there isn't, is there? But I've said it before and I'll say it again: A judge would let Gadget Hackwrench off with a warning if she knocked over a bank." 

"You might believe it but I don't and there's no way I'm going to risk coming back here once I'm out. Especially not with everyone knowing who I am for real. Where's the logic in reclaiming my rightful place in the world, just to go on the run from most of my friends two minutes later?"

"Uh, ah, I guess there isn't any." Bubbles mumbled. "Not that you'd have to run very hard. No one would want to be the one to take you in. Everyone would just be overflowing with understanding if you were Gadget Hackwrench and broke out of here. Even if you did get sent back, you'd probably get a full pardon from the Council of Mice in the morning mail and breakfast in bed served by the warden herself."

"You really think so?" 

"Yeah, sure. Now I'm going to take a nap. Wake me when it's dinnertime. Assuming you're still here." Bubbles added wryly. 

127

"I changed my mind." Lawhiney whined. "I don't want to tell them who I am." 

Geegaw's moustache twitched. Once. He took a very deep breath and held it for a very long time. Then he let it out very slowly. 

Lawhiney waited and trembled. She wanted desperately to be told she had done the right thing. That she had made everything right and that she was safe from the prison hospital bed where her baby would be taken away from her, not to mention the fate that awaited her in the next world if her dreams were to be believed.

"Just what DO you want to do?" He asked in a carefully controlled voice.

Lawhiney turned the wheelchair towards a well-used workbench. Using the bench for support she lifted herself up until she was standing. "Practice." She gasped. "Practice walking until I can walk out of here and disappear."

"Disappear? Oh, Lawhiney! Take it from someone who knows, you don't want to do that. Look at me, I disappeared and it's just no fun at all." He cajoled her.

"Yeah, well. I'm not stuck with many tempting alternatives." Lawhiney took her first step in over a month. For a moment it felt like her leg had exploded. Putting any weight on her injured leg caused her pain, even with the crutch.

"Ah, careful there. It's not like I can help you back up after you fall, you know." 

The change from anger to concern made Lawhiney laugh and shake her head, even with what felt like a red-hot iron inside her leg. "You mean if I fall flat on my face in here, or-" 

"Either, Lawhiney. Of both." Geegaw cut across her before she could finish the question.

She snuck a look at him to see if he was telling the truth. He looked like he was. She looked away again and took another step. "It's not like I'm trying to be difficult. Or bad." She said through clenched teeth. 

"You're managing pretty well." Geegaw muttered.

"I don't deserve that. I'm not doing anything really, really wrong and evil. I'm just not doing something that would be really, really right and noble." 

"I mean with the crutch." Geegaw said.

Lawhiney looked at him suspiciously as she took another step.

"One time I was laid up with a bad leg I found I couldn't go five feet without falling over, even with a crutch." Geegaw forced a smile at her. "I ended up like that human in the old Hitchcock movie, what's it called?" 

"I'm not a movie person." Lawhiney snapped.

"Really? Not even when some handsome guy took you out on a first date?"

Lawhiney's lips curled in derision. "If the guy was that handsome, I usually didn't bother with a first date. And unless he was some boob that offered to take me to a movie I really wanted to see, I was usually too busy in the back row to notice what was happening on screen." 

Geegaw gulped. He hadn't lead a sheltered life but even so… 

"What? Oh, don't tell me you're going to act all surprised just because I'll have to go someplace where no one knows me if I want to wear white at my wedding! You know I'm pregnant so you can't have thought that I was –" Lawhiney stopped as a realisation stole over her. She might have let it lie any other time but the pain was making her nasty, so with a spiteful grin she plunged on, hoping to hurt him. "Oh, I get it. I look like your daughter so I ought to be all noble and pure, like her, is that it? In fact, I bet the thought of someone who looks _just like_ your daughter enjoying herself like–"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Geegaw shouted. "I am here to help you! I don't have to be and, unless you forget, I don't want to be looking after you instead of Gadget!" 

Lawhiney opened her mouth to spit back an ugly reply but the crutch slipped out from under her. The next thing she knew she was flat on her back and Geegaw was by her side. He had crossed the room so quickly she hadn't seen him move. Perhaps he hadn't.

"Oh Lord! I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. If I did, I'm sorry for it. I take it back. Laurel, are you alright?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Lawhiney gasped. 

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I still had one hand on the bench. It broke my fall. Hey, don't call me Laurel. I haven't called myself that for years."

"Why not?" 

"I didn't like Laurel." 

There was a slight pause. If he asked, she would never admit she was talking about more than the name. 

"How come?"  

Lawhiney was trying to stand up again and took her time answering. "It's a boring name. No pizzazz. Laurel is a name for some pretty little over-privileged airhead who doesn't draw breath without mommy's permission, someone who'd never go anywhere or do anything. It's a name a little girl would give to her dress up dolly, not…" 

"Not what?" 

"Nothing. If you can't help me up, at least tell me what that was I just knocked off the bench." 

"Ah, it's a book. Looks like a textbook. Homemade, maybe." 

Lawhiney used the end of her crutch to drag the book towards her. It was made of human cigarette papers sewn together with silk and bound in a familiar lavender cloth. Flipping the cover closed she read, or tried to read, the title: "Mental Telemetry from Gadget Hackwrench – Month 293."

She blinked. "Geegaw, what does telemetry mean?" 

"Flight data like engine revs, altitude, pitch, yaw, fuel remaining, stuff like that. Humans record all their aircraft telemetry so they can figure out what when wrong if they have a crash but our people are always too busy covering up the evidence after a crash to worry about that." 

"Like in Roswell? Were you a part of that?"

Geegaw chuckled ruefully. "Roswell, the animal kingdom's Hindenburg. That was, what, 1947? No, I was just a kid back then. Monty claims he was with Edmund Hillary when he climbed Everest in 1957, but I don't think even _his_ stories go back that far."

"He looks fifty." Lawhiney frowned. "He'd have been seven years old, at most."

"Wouldn't surprise me. They raise them to adventure young in that family." Geegaw replied. "The only time our folk record telemetry is when someone's testing something like a new aircraft or an alteration to a existing airplane."

"Figures a super-brain like Gadget would do all her telemetry mentally. I would have thought that after two hundred and ninety-three months whatever she's working on should be pretty well tested to destruction." Lawhiney said. 

Geegaw shuddered. "Don't talk like that. You have no idea how many times I thought she was about to be blown to kingdom come by one of her inventions." 

Lawhiney flipped the book open at the halfway point and gave it an indifferent glance, expecting it to be incomprehensible. She was surprised when she read in neat, precise handwriting: 

_"Chip gave me a telling off today because one of my experiments blew up on the runway and was loud enough to make a human sitting on the park bench put aside his newspaper and come right up to the tree to stare and frown at us for nearly a whole minute or so before he scratched his head and went away – the human that is, not Chip." _

Lawhiney's jaw dropped. Gadget's diary! She was holding Gadget Hackwrench's diary! 

"Wow! I bet the tabloids would pay a fortune for this!" The words were out of her mouth before she finished thinking them.

"For a flightlog?" Geegaw puzzled. 

Lawhiney hastily closed the book and stuffed it into one of the capacious pockets of the jumpsuit she had borrowed from Gadget's wardrobe. "Of course not. I don't know what I was thinking, ha-ha! They wouldn't even understand it." 

Geegaw saw though it in a heartbeat. "Lawhiney!" He ordered sternly. "What are you hiding? Show it to me at once!" 

Lawhiney hesitated. 

Geegaw glowered. "How tired are you feeling after last night's nightmare? I was planning to let you sleep tonight, even though you have gone back on your word to confess everything and make good, but if you're just going to add new sins to your record perhaps I should use a firmer hand with you."

Lawhiney crumbled and hung her head and ears. She looked up at him with big eyes as she surrendered the book, holding it out to him so he could take it.

Geegaw cocked an eyebrow. "That's a, ah-ha, _better_ girl but I can't touch anything remember?"

Lawhiney had suspected this for some time but hadn't been sure. She filed the information for future use. Even if she salvaged nothing else from this find it was still worth knowing that, if it came right down to it, Geegaw couldn't do anything to physically hurt her – or stop her. 

"Now, how about you tell me what you've found here?"

"It's a diary." Lawhiney admitted. 

"A - ?" Geegaw looked at it in amazement. Something flickered across his face that anyone else might have missed but that Lawhiney had seen too many times to not to read: Temptation.

"Diary." Lawhiney repeated. "I dare say she's recorded every little thing that's happened to her since she came to live here, if not since before you died. All her news and triumphs, how she's been doing, what she's hoping for the future. All laid out to see, if you want."

"I never knew she kept a diary. I thought if she did, she'd keep it in that big chest of hers." Geegaw said absentmindedly, still staring at the book in Lawhiney's paws.

Lawhiney blinked and tried to force Geegaw's last sentence to make sense.

"The one in the corner of her bedroom." Geegaw explained. "You must have noticed it. It belonged to my grandfather. Gadget's the first one in two generations to be able to open it." 

Understanding lit in Lawhiney's eyes and she flipped to the back of the book. The pages were blank. "She must have still been working on this one when…" Not smart to go down that road. "…when she put it to one side here and went off to do something. Absentminded of her." 

"Very. But then she always was absentminded." Geegaw glared at her. He could fill in the blanks well enough for himself.

"I wonder how many of the pages are blank." Lawhiney said casually and she began to flip through the book, starting at the back.

Geegaw tried to change the subject. "You were supposed to be learning how to walk again."

"Oh, look. I've found the last entry." Lawhiney said and she began to read.

_"Month 293, Day 14. _

_Weather continues sunny with a moderate southeasterly wind. Temperatures are in the twenty to twenty-five degree ranges. _

_Golly, Chip and Dale were really going at it last night. I could hear them right through the walls of my workshop! Sometimes I wonder how they can still be friends when they fight so much! I know Dad and Monty fought occasionally but I don't think they ever fought as loudly or as physically as Chip and Dale. Sometimes I feel so sorry for Dale, who seems to lose out to Chip in most ways, but he holds his own in these flat out battles that see them rolling around on the floor. Why it should be that way when they're fighting flat out when Dale loses every minor quarrel they have, I can't say but there are times when I think that Chip and Dale are more likely to be killed by each other than by Fat Cat, Nimnul, Rat Capone or any of the others we come across in our work._

_My prototypes of the climb-anywhere-hand-and-foot-grips (mark 2) are ready for testing after another all night session of tinkering. Thank Heaven for Java. The coffee, not the computer language, I mean, not that the computer language isn't a good thing too, it's just that I probably wouldn't have time to work on these things and be a Rescue Ranger as well if it wasn't for strong coffee and lots of it. _

_I have decided against reusing the parts from the mk.1 because of the damage they sustained during my first test. Thank heaven I tested how much weight my invention could carry by putting lead weights in a bucket instead by using them of myself._

_I am also using springs instead of elastic bands in the Mk.2, as these were the first components to fail…"_

Lawhiney stopped reading. She looked at the passage in amazement. This was a diary? After the first entry she had read, Lawhiney had assumed that the whole book would be filled with personal stuff. Bewildered, she began to turn the pages to look for something personal that could trap Geegaw's interest. 

"I don't think my daughter left that there with the intention of letting people read through her innermost thoughts." Geegaw said coldly. 

"I just thought you might like to hear about her life, because you haven't been able to be close to her for so long. Or have you been watching over her the whole time, except when you were showing me around?" 

"No, I haven't been watching over her every moment, night and day. That's because good people are supposed to respect each other's privacy." Geegaw nodded pointedly to the diary.

"You were never tempted to look in on her? Or isn't it allowed?" 

Geegaw's face became shadowed in his hood. "It's allowed. Up to a point. Your loved ones have a right to get on with their lives without you always looking over your shoulder." He sounded more like he was quoting from memory than trying to enlighten his young charge. 

"I think that's cruel." Lawhiney said sympathetically. "After all, it's not as if you're a peeping tom or anything." 

"Oh, we get gossip." Geegaw sighed. "And there's the occasional chance to meet in dreams when the boundary between this side and the next has worn thin. Not to mention emergency visits when things are bad." 

"I bet she thinks of you all the time." Lawhiney said.

"Oh, no. If she's got any sense she spends her time thinking about the people who are in her life _now_." Geegaw looked sheepish. He was being modest but there was a part of him that enjoyed the idea of Gadget thinking about him; Lawhiney could tell. Even if it meant that Gadget's heart had been breaking every moment of that time. 

Something, not even a thought or a memory, caught at the back of her mind. For a heartbeat it was easy to picture Geegaw at her age, without the grey salting his moustache and eyebrows or the laugh-lines round his eyes. She didn't know why but there was something in the image that made her feel closer to him, as if they had something in common. 

Lawhiney put the thought aside for another time and played her hand. "I could read more to you if you like." 

It sounded so innocent. 


	20. Down Hill Run

**_Disclaimer_**

****

_In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone…  except a certain kind of lawyer._

**Chapter Twenty**

**Down Hill Run**

128

The next day saw Gadget repeating the routine of the day before: Cell, shower, cell, breakfast, cell, lunch, cell, dinner then cell. She tried exercising but the floor of the cell was filthy, covered in dirt and dust and worse, and after a few short push-ups her hands were sticky and dirty. The toilet was the only source of water in their cell, which meant she couldn't wash her hands, let alone drink. She was careful to have as much water as she could with every meal. 

Most of the prison food was pet store fare and Gadget had begun to wonder whether this was supposed to be part of the punishment. She mentioned the theory at lunch and Darla was quick to reminisce about the punishments meted down by the screws in the old days. Some her descriptions made the fur along Gadget's spine stand on end. Talk of being hung by the tail and beaten with sticks, of having fur singed off with lit matchsticks and of troublemakers who were disposed of by being thrown into mousetraps filled Gadget with horror even as the other prisoners carried on eating as though the topic was tired, old news. 

Later, thinking it over in her cell, Gadget realised that she wouldn't have taken any of it seriously two months ago. To be fair, Darla probably had embroidered and exaggerated her stories for the benefit of the rookie but even so Gadget found it easy to believe that there was a well-used padded bench, still tucked away in the corner of some forgotten prison storeroom, which had leather straps to hold an inmate down.  

She spent most of the day reading a book Bubbles had managed to get for her. She had hoped for something serious and challenging to keep her mind busy. Instead she found herself reading a racy detective story that even Chip would have eschewed as lightweight and heavy on the "romance". 

Left to her own devices Gadget probably could have lived to a ripe old age without reading that type of book so it was a new experience for her and an eye-opening one. She had never thought much about other what people found entertaining. There were things that interested her and there were things that interested other people and she had always thought that the world would be a better place if everyone just accepted that and got on with whatever was that interested them. 

Did people who read these books really find Detective Max Armstrong, who used his fists and feet as punctuation when he interrogated suspects, an admirable, heroic figure? Would females really throw themselves at someone like him in real life the way the desperate and occasionally airhead characters in the book did? It didn't seem likely to Gadget, though the world was a less certain place seen through a set of bars.

She read the book from start to finish in a couple of hours, without attempting to guess who had strangled the heiress just before the start of chapter one. Then she spent the rest of the day comparing the version of detective work in the book to what she had seen Chip do. It did keep her mind off getting out of Shrankshaw and off what her friends might be doing in her absence. 

129

Lawhiney began the day early. Her leg and back were hurting her. It was two hours before the sun would come up and three hours before she could take another painkiller. She considered begging Monty for another pill but Geegaw warned her about the dangers of addiction. When that didn't work, he also warned her about the effect that too many painkillers could have on an unborn child. 

To take her mind off the pain she opened Gadget's diary as soon as the first shafts of light came creeping over the horizon. She began reading aloud to Geegaw. He didn't object, mainly because the thought of Lawhiney becoming addicted to painkillers worried him more than the thought of her reading something personal in Gadget's diary, which mostly seemed to be full of technical details that would probably only mean something to another engineer. 

By the time breakfast was being cleared from the ranger's kitchen table, Lawhiney was in Gadget's workshop. The floor was less cluttered than it had been the day before. She wondered at that – the signs on the door were pretty specific. 

No visitors allowed – especially chipmunks. Do not enter. Dale Stay OUT!! 

Yet someone had gone to the trouble of carefully picking up every loose cog and spring and placing the lot in a bucket on the workbench so nothing could get underfoot and cause her to fall. And they had done it while she was busy elsewhere so as not to upset Gadget. It was exactly the way the servants of a queen should behave, she reflected, but by all accounts Gadget never played that game. The thought that, without even trying, Gadget had what Lawhiney herself had always wanted filled Lawhiney with rage. 

"Spoilt brat, born with a silver spoon in her mouth." She muttered spitefully to herself as she struggled back and forth on a crutch. She was so focused on her exercises that she even forgot about Geegaw standing right by her side, listening to every word as he walked along side her.

"No idea what it's like for someone to claw her way up from the depths with nothing but a pretty face and a smile in a world full of men with big teeth in their smiles and an appetite." 

Geegaw watched her carefully, every step of the way. He wasn't just watching out for any sign she might be about to fall, he was cataloguing the depth of her hate. Lawhiney's hate for _his daughter_! 

It was incredible! 

Considering that she had only ever met Gadget once, years ago, it was unbelievable! 

This girl had all but destroyed her own life in the name of forcing others to worship and admire her. Gadget had never once in her life done something with the aim of forcing or manipulating a person into liking her. She was just herself, doing what she thought was right. That was what people liked.

"No idea what's like to hated until you force or trick them into worshiping the ground you walk on." Lawhiney muttered.

"Like you were hated?" Geegaw probed in a low voice. 

"Exactly like I was hated." She hissed in pain. 

"Tell me how you were hated." The guide whispered. 

"As long as I can remember people were jealous of me, right from the first day at school." Lawhiney began and with every swing of her crutch she continued to catalogue every slight and injustice in her early life. 

The teacher gave her poor grades. The boy behind her tied her hair to the back of her chair. The children taunted her in the playground. Her mother was the only true friend in those days, telling her that she was better than the other children and they were just trying to drag her down to their level. 

Slowly, Lawhiney learned to believe in herself, if in nothing else. Slowly, she learned to be strong enough to resist the other children's taunts, if not temptation. Slowly, she learned that when respect and admiration was not given to her, it could be taken by other means. 

130

…And so the day passed quickly for Gadget and Lawhiney. 

Of the two, Gadget got more sleep and ate better than Lawhiney, if only because it was Dale's turn to cook. Lawhiney turned in early, her injuries aching horribly from the unaccustomed exercise. Gadget snoozed before lights-out. Bubbles was relieved. The talking had stopped. 

By the time Gadget woke up and remembered that she wanted to ask Bubbles to send a letter to the Rangers for her Bubbles had curled up for the night and another day was over. Gadget, to her own mild surprise, didn't particularly mind.

She listened to her friend sleeping in the bunk above her for a while and slowly two new thoughts crept into her head. She'd miss Bubbles when this was over. She pictured herself visiting her new friend to say hi and catch up on the gossip but when she played the scene out in her mind a funny thing happened. She couldn't picture Bubbles liking her. Not once Bubbles knew that "Red" was really Gadget. 

131

Lawhiney gasped in pain. She had a curse on her lips but Geegaw's eye caught hers and she left it there. Just as well. It might have given Chip and Monty pause if they heard some of the words Lawhiney knew coming from "Gadget's" pretty mouth.

It was a new morning, Lawhiney's second on crutches. The night before she had tossed with nightmares but they were normal nightmares – half-formed things that were part memories of the air crash, part fear of being found out. She woke stiff from the previous day's exercise and with blisters on the palms of her paws from the handles of her crutches.

"Gadget, are you sure you want to practice so hard?" Chip asked.

"Chip's right, Gadget-luv. You might make the break worse instead of better putting too much weight on it." Monty counselled. 

"I'm sure. It's mostly just muscles aching." Actually she couldn't separate one pain from the next but if she admitted it they'd never leave her alone. 

"Cheese is good for bones." Monty observed. "We're all having fondue for lunch!" he announced. 

Chip winced but yielded gracefully. "Can we have acorns in it?" 

"Acorn sprinkles for those who want them, perhaps." Monty allowed. 

They left bickering. Lawhiney was relieved. They had been more than willing to help her back to her room after breakfast. Despite what they said, Lawhiney knew her leg was getting better. She would rest a couple of hours and then get two or three hours exercise before lunch. If she kept it up another couple of days, she should be able to walk as soon as Doctor Bell took the cast off. 

Geegaw smiled. "Well, isn't that nice. Gadget's favourite uncle making you cheese fondue while you take a little nap and later Chip's going to help you practice walking again so that when your cast comes off you can stand on your own two feet. All so you can go on the lam while someone who dedicated their life to helping others rots in prison at the risk of saints-alone-know-what happening to her!"

"You're biased!" Lawhiney pointed out. "She's your daughter!" 

"That's right, she's my daughter! She's also a rescue ranger! Do you know how many people she's rescued? How many all the rangers have rescued?"

"Do _they_? Chip's the only one who would bother counting you know." Lawhiney retorted.  

_She's probably right_, Geegaw realised, _but it doesn't change anything._ "The point is, Gadget has done good and you're keeping her from continuing to do good. Every day Gadget isn't here, they aren't at full strength. People who need rescuing have to fend for themselves."

Lawhiney met his gaze. Her eyes were steady but there were tears in them, tears Geegaw suspected wouldn't have been there two months ago. 

"Strangers. I have my son to think about." Lawhiney said.

"Tell me, Lawhiney, what do you think of the Rangers? Not the group, I mean Dale and Monty and so on." 

Lawhiney's eyes hooded. She suspected a trick but Geegaw's tone had been kindly. "Dale's fun. Shorter than I usually like my males but kinda cute. I don't think he has a mean bone in his body. Shame he's a loser. Not like Chip at all. Now Chip, he could really be somebody with the right woman behind him. He's such a thug though. Sooner or later any girl he's with is going to have to duck. Chip would be good for a –" Lawhiney caught Geegaw's eye and broke off. "Oh, you mean as people?" 

Geegaw nodded, his expression stony. 

"Chip's very brave. A real stand up guy. You'd want him on your side, anyone would. I guess I'd admire him if I wasn't so scared of him. Monty's brave too but he's got a kind streak in him. I like him. I'm kinda sorry he isn't twenty years younger. Dale just comes across as goofy but I think he's smarter than he realises, probably braver and stronger too. The sort who won't believe himself until he's got a girl behind him to make him dread what will happen if he doesn't. Zipper's difficult to understand and easy to overlook but I guess he may just be the bravest of the lot. I mean all Monty would have to do is accidentally sit on him and he'd be history." 

Geegaw laughed at that. "You're right of course. There's a lot more to Zipper than meets the eye." 

"I never really understood why so many people want to belong to groups like the rangers before. I guess mostly I thought they were just a bunch of power freaks that liked making people jump through hoops. Now I've seen them like this, it's like they just see the world in a different way. They see it as a place that's basically okay where people like them just have to do certain things to keep it that way. 

Lawhiney fell silent for a moment. "I think I have that in common with them." She said and then looked up at Geegaw like a schoolgirl who was uncertain she had remembered her lesson rightly. "Most of the time everyone just does whatever they think is expected of them, no matter who they are. It's just that what one person thinks they have to do varies from another depending on how they see the world. I always saw it as a messed up place where someone like me had to do _certain things_ if they were going to get anywhere and make something of themselves."

Geegaw rocked back on his heels and looked down at her. He twisted the tip of his moustache thoughtfully between finger and thumb. 

From her expression, Lawhiney at least partly expected him to explode with anger, to berate her for the suggestion that she had anything in common with people who risked their lives to save the lives of others without thought of reward. Geegaw wasn't sure that she was wrong. It sounded like the sort of thing a Guide should do. The problem was he didn't want to explode with anger. He just didn't feel like it. He could see her point, in fact, so if he did have some invisible person keeping watch on him and assessing his performance they would just have to knock down a grade or two. 

"I won't disagree with what you just said. It wasn't all bad." He told her. "But here's the thing: do you still look at the world in the same way now?" 

"Before the crash? He – I mean, heck no. I thought I was tough, invulnerable. That I was going to live forever and never get old."

"Really?" Geegaw cocked an eyebrow. "They have padded cells for people who think like that you know."

"Well, not literally, it was more like I just never thought about getting hurt, or getting old, or dying." Lawhiney explained. "Now I am and that changes things a lot. I mean, wealth is important but you can't take it with you and how much can you really spend in one lifetime? How much fine food could you eat before you got sick of it and wanted something simple? It's the same for everything else."

"True. Tell me though, do you realise that I asked you about how you saw the world and you answered by telling me about how you saw yourself?" 

Lawhiney blinked. "Yes, I suppose I did." A mischievous smile crept over her face. "I may not be the most important part of the world but I'm the part of the world that's most important to me!"

Geegaw returned the smile. "That I believe. Will you feel the same why when Roche is born?" 

Lawhiney's smile froze and her eyes glazed as she tried to imagine being in a room with someone more important than her. "I guess not. Not sure how I feel about that. But for now anything that happens to one of us is going to have to happen to both of us."  Her hand stretched over her belly, which was now obviously larger, even under the bedclothes. 

"I know you're afraid of what might happen when you tell them the truth but however hard you think it's going to be, Lawhiney, it will seem so much easier once it's done." Geegaw pressed.

"Yeah," Lawhiney agreed, "the hardest part of getting hung is always climbing the gallows. It's all down hill after that!"

Geegaw grinned ruefully in the safety of the shadows under his hood. It wouldn't help either of them to admit that he liked her defiant brand of humour. It reminded him of his. 

"Tell me, Lawhiney, have you ever considered what it will do to the people around you when the truth finally comes out?" 

"The Rangers? Not really. I've had other things on my mind. They aren't exactly my favourite people, though, so how much do you expect me to care?"

"Do you even remember that vision I showed you after the crash? Of what would happen if you didn't reform?" Geegaw scowled. 

"I remember they took Roach, I mean Roche, away from me and he grew up to be-" she paused trying to find the right words "-a little reckless. Not that was good reason for Gadget and her little band of troublemakers to chase him off a roof." 

"As I thought, you only remembered the parts about you and Roche!" Geegaw despaired.

132

"Let me get this straight." Bubbles began. "I'm allowed one letter home a week and you want me to use this weeks letter, this letter that would normally go to my youngest son on his birthday, to write to the Rescue Rangers." 

"That's right." 

"Who I don't in any way care for but who apparently you want to tell something important to, which could be called ratting but we won't go there because we both know that what you want to tell them is -" 

"That I'm the real Gadget Hackwrench and that I'm in jail." 

"Bing!" Bubbles chimed and she bopped the end of Gadget's nose with her pen. "Now, just remind me, what weren't we going to do any more?"

"Talk about me being the real Gadget Hackwrench." 

"That's right. Now, what do we seem to be doing?" 

"Discussing me borrowing your weekly letter home?" 

"Which, like everything else with you, leads by a fairly short route to the subject of you thinking you're Gadget Hackwrench." 

Gadget forced herself not to mention that was because she was Gadget Hackwrench. That was old Gadget Hackwrench thinking. She needed new Gadget Hackwrench thinking. "I could owe you a favour?" 

"Be glad I'm not the type to take you at your word and then tell you what the favour is later, when you ain't in a position to say no." Bubbles said warningly. "If you're that desperate to write the Rangers, why don't you use your own letter home?" 

"Haggs –" 

"Haggs isn't on duty in our block this week. She's working in the psychiatric wing. Remember? She's probably not even censoring our mail this week."

"Our mail is censored?" 

"Of course our mail is censored! How else do they know that we aren't all plotting to bust out of here? Not that any of us would dream of breaking out of here." she added hastily as a passing guard gave her a hard look. "I mean, what would be the point? All the guards and bars, no one would get anywhere." 

"You mean if I write to Chip, Monty and the others, to convince them I'm the real thing, some guard is going to read whatever I put in that letter, no matter how personal it is? Because if I'm going to convince them I'm going to have to prove I know stuff that no one but Gadget and at least one other ranger knows. I'm going to have to put up something pretty personal." 

Bubbles interest was tweaked. "Like what?" 

"Oh, gee, I don't know. Maybe the time Dale got his head stuck in a pretzel loop. Perhaps the time Monty put on so much weight he fell right through the bottom of the Ranger plane. Lucky we were on the ground. Or how Chip and Dale had to put on dresses and snuck into Fat Cat's Casino to rescue a couple of squirrel girls they were supposed to be babysitting." 

"Everyone's heard about that last time. They were the floor show." Bubbles pointed out.

"Really? I hope it doesn't get back to Tammy's mom. She'd throw a fit if she knew." 

"Red…" Bubbles warned her again. 

"I know, I know, I'm sorry." 

The pair sat in silence for a moment. 

"Hey, you want to hear a joke?" Bubbles asked. "It's about the Rangers."

"People tell jokes about the Rangers?" 

"Sure. Well, it's about Dale and Gadget but I wasn't sure how you'd react, what with, you know, what we aren't talking about any more." 

"People tell jokes about-" Gadget stopped before she got to the word "Me" and broke Bubbles's taboo again. 

For a moment she thought about asking her friend never to mention such jokes again but then her curiosity got the better of her. It couldn't be worse than the ones she overheard as a little girl when the airfield mechanics thought she wasn't listening. _Gee,_ she mused, _I haven't thought about that since I was a little girl and I tried telling one to Monty. Geegaw told me just to put stuff like that out of my head. You don't need it so just pretend you put it at the back of the closet and forgot about it._

"Do you want to hear it?" Bubbles asked again.

"Sure, go ahead." Gadget said. 

If nothing else it would please Bubbles to be able to tell her joke and if Bubbles was in a good mood she might be more easily persuaded to go along with Gadget's letter plan. That was new Gadget thinking and in it people had levers sticking out of them like wind up tin toys, even if you couldn't see them, and it was important to know where all the levers were if you wanted to get people to do what you wanted. 

"Okay, here goes." Bubbles began. "After a pretty good evening out on the town Gadget comes home to find herself alone with Dale. "'Dale,'" she coos, "'take off my blouse and lay it on the bed.'" 

Gadget paused. She didn't wear a blouse. Was getting out of jail worth this? It wasn't just the direction the joke was going in. Bubbles impression of "the real Gadget Hackwrench" actually reminded Gadget of a part of herself she didn't much like. 

"Well, Dale does and then she whispers: "'Dale, take off my skirt and lay that on the bed.'" Then she growls: "'Dale, take off my bra and panties and put those on the bed.'" Finally she yells: "'Dale, if I catch you wearing my clothes or underwear again, I'll kill you!'" 

Bubbles paused exactly one second for Red's reaction and then laughed herself. 

Gadget's brain processed the joke and stalled because the smut was coming from an unexpected direction. It tried to start over but gave up in the face of the mental image conjured up by the punch line and the general awfulness of the joke. 

"Oh dear Lord, that is awful." Gadget dissolved into laughter. 

Bubbles laughed too. "I can't see the real Gadget Hackwrench laughing at that. She'd just be sooo shocked." 

"Are you kidding? She was there when Chip and Dale put on dresses to dance on stage!" Gadget giggled. She was talking about herself in third person terms again. 

"You see? You don't need to convince anybody that you're anyone but my cellmate, Red, and even if you did, you don't need me to write to the Rangers. Haggs is working in the psychiatric wing, so if you really want to write them a letter, you just need to persuade one of the guards that your loss of privileges is up. How long did Haggs give you, anyway?" 

"Well, it was fifty days, in fact, on the way to the Warden's office she said she was going to make it sixty but she didn't and then, when we were in front of the Warden, she claimed she'd only given me thirty days. So I guess I don't really know for sure how many days I have." 

"Thirty days. You've been here way more than thirty days." 

"Haggs said that time in the psychiatric wing didn't count."

"Red, you've got to remember that it's difficult for the guards to keep track. They all work different shifts, they don't always fill in the paperwork and, even if a particular prisoner has made themselves different and memorable the way you have, they still usually just see a set of prison overalls when they look at us. Same way we usually just see a uniform when we look at them."

"What are you suggesting?" Gadget asked.

"Lie, you idiot. If I really thought I could get out of here in time for my kid's birthday just by telling a simple lie and sending a letter, do you seriously think I'd hesitate? Would anyone even remember that you had lied if you proved you were the real Gadget? Even if they did, what would it matter once you were out of here?" Bubbles peered at her curiously. "It never even occurred to you to lie, did it?"

"No." Gadget replied thoughtfully. "I was so busy trying to convince people that I was telling the truth, it never occurred to me to lie. What lie do you think I should tell?" 

"That you've served your loss of privileges. They'll check a list to see if you're on it but I don't think you'll be on it unless someone remembered to take you name off it when you went into the special wing and then put it back on when you were let out."

"Jeepers! Bubbles, that's great!" 

"I can't believe you just said _jeepers_."

133

"Gadget tried to save Roach, remember? She wasn't trying to get him killed!" Geegaw was arguing with Lawhiney while she practiced walking. He hoped that, if nothing else, the pain in her leg would distract her enough for him to tie her in knots with his superior reasoning. 

"Roche." Lawhiney corrected him.

"Yeah, Roche. Yeesh! That poor kid. He's going to have an even worse time in the playground than Gadget." Geegaw winced sympathy.

"Why, wasn't she always Miss Popularity?" 

"Are you kidding? She was the smart kid in the class. How many popular smart kids did you know?"

Lawhiney looked at him doubtfully. 

Geegaw sat beside her. "You know, it's funny you should put it that way. Reminds me of some of the nicknames the kids used to come up with for her. Miss Take, Miss Hap, Miss Fire. They used to make her so mad." 

"Ha! I bet she ran to the teacher about it, too!" Lawhiney spat. "Sneaking on the other kids every chance she got." 

Geegaw opened his mouth to deny it then shrugged his anger aside. "Sometimes." He allowed. 

"Just like she was shoving her nose into my business and whatever little Roche was doing on that roof." Lawhiney pouted.

"Looked like Roche was trying to rob the place and Gadget was trying to save him from falling off the roof to me." Geegaw reminded her. "She might even have pulled it off, if someone had gotten her out of jail before she was injured in that prison riot."

Lawhiney tensed. "Are you saying that what's going to happen to my son up on that roof is my fault? You can't expect me to control what's going to happen maybe twenty years from now!" 

"Lawhiney, I'm not trying to blame you for what might or might not happen twenty years from now. That's my purpose here, or anywhere else. I'm trying to show you that our actions shape our lives and the life of every living being casts a long shadow on the future. You know how your body can cast a really long strange shadow on the ground?"

  
Lawhiney nodded.

"Well then, it's just like the mouse in the children's story, who saw his shadow on the cave wall and thought there was a monster living in his cave. You know that story?" Geegaw asked.

"Mom and Dad weren't the bedtime story type of parents." 

Geegaw made a mental note to later find out what type of parents Lawhiney did think Mum and Dad were. "What we showed you in that vision was meant to give you an idea about what kind of shadow your life has cast on the future, Lawhiney."

"You were trying to scare me."

"No, not that scaring you seemed like an all-together bad thing. You've been pretty fearless, from what I've heard."

"Thanks."

"Fearless can a bad thing, especially when it makes frightening someone else seem like no big deal." Geegaw told her. 

Lawhiney looked at him unhappily. "I haven't heard that commandment before."

"It's not a commandment. Fearless can be a good thing too. It just depends on how you use it. I don't blame you for not working it out by yourself. I never got it either, when I was on your side of things." 

"Were you fearless?" 

"I liked to think so." Geegaw admitted. 

Lawhiney looked carefully at him. It was as close to an admission of guilt as, come to think of it, it was as close to an admission of guilt as she herself could ever have come. She remembered the day before, when she had caught herself thinking that his face – or was it his expression – reminded her of her own. Was he becoming more like her as time went on, or had they chosen a guide for her who had experience of what all this looked like from her side of things? 

"You're getting better with the crutch." Geegaw complimented her. 

"End of the next week, I can say goodbye to the cast. I'm gonna walk right out of that hospital." She promised, her mind busy.

134

The next morning was Lawhiney's fourth on crutches and the third after she had found Gadget's diary. She was three days away from getting the splint on her tail removed and looking forward to it. She was also getting good with the crutches now. She had blisters on the palms of her hands but she had used a pin to let the fluid out and they were fast becoming calloused pads of thick skin. She could walk from ten in the morning until twelve and then from three to six in the evening. Using the crutches was always tiring, though, and through it all Geegaw was keeping on the pressure. 

He was subtle about it, using the dripping water approach to wear her down when she was at her most vulnerable. Whenever she was worried or tired, he'd be there by her ear or elbow with another reason to repent and confess. The reason was always hidden behind a wise or consoling word that she wanted to hear and if she wanted the benefit of one she had to accept the other. He might have managed to slip it past without her noticing but she was good too and she was wise to him. 

"What's on your mind, Laurel?" He asked.

"Laurel's history. Call me Lawhiney." She grumbled as she made a turn before she ran out of workshop. Lawhiney was always careful to remember that however much he tried to be her friend, Geegaw had an agenda of his own - to save his daughter. He'd been sent to make her confess and repent, regardless of any consequences that might befall her as a result. If he could make her like him and feel good about himself at the same time that was a bonus.

"Why do you prefer a name that means The Whine?" he asked.

"Laurel was the name my mother gave me because it was fashionable and she wanted me to be a fashion accessory. Lawhiney was a name I had to get for myself. I might not have been so happy if I had known what it meant at the time but I went through the tribe's tests of womanhood to get it. They weren't easy."

Geegaw frowned. "They showed me a that when I agreed to take on your case. You had to dance for the tribe mice, recite the laws of the tribe, make a flower petal robe for the chief to give to a warrior of the tribe and climb to the edge of an active volcano to make your vows of womanhood." 

"In the old days they used to mean a real volcano. Sometimes the girl didn't come back and the priests said the volcano had been angered because the girl wasn't pure. I suppose it beat admitting they fried someone's daughter because just got the lava forecast wrong." Lawhiney smiled cynically, as if to suggest that was all anyone could expect of a priest.

"You didn't know it was going to be a fake volcano. They blindfolded you and led you there in secret. You felt edge of the crater under your feet and the heat coming up in front of you. You thought you were in real danger until they took the blindfold off." He didn't say she had been brave but his tone was gilt edged with respect.

"And then after I said my vows the human hotel manager switched the volcano on and they all ran away saying I wasn't pure and I just stood there in amazement wondering how a fibreglass volcano could know what I'd been up to!" Lawhiney shared a laugh with her spirit guide.

"The tribe mice were frightened because they had never seen the volcano erupt before. They hadn't known it could and all they knew about volcanoes were the horror stories their parents had told them." Geegaw filled in for her. "You thought they were stupid and foolish, but by the time you had worked out what was going on it was too late to run from the boiling marshmallow."

Lawhiney grinned at the memory. "I surfed down the mountain on a piece of fudge and told them the volcano would stop in a moment. At first they didn't believe me but when it did I was a hero. They had a tradition that a pure mouse-maid was able to turn back the anger of the volcano god and save the tribe." 

"You weren't turning back anything. You'd seen the schedule for turning the volcano on and off pinned up on a palm tree when you were standing up there." Geegaw said firmly. 

"Yeah, well, I thought…" she paused awkwardly.

"What?"

"That the last mouse-maid to pull it off probably saw it the same way I did and that the priests had been doing it for generations, so now it was just MY TURN, OKAY?"

Geegaw looked at her with clear blue eyes that seemed to see right into her heart. "Okay. Fine. I can see how you might think that. I might even have been the sort of person to think the same way myself, once upon a time."

Lawhiney forced herself to carry on walking. A tear rolled down her nose, which Geegaw pretended not to see. "Did your little crew of outlaws call you Lawhiney, or Laurel?" He asked after a moment. 

"Law, usually." 

"Law?" Geegaw laughed. "Was that as in Her Word is Law, or as in She's a Law Unto Herself?" 

"Very funny." 

"Oh, don't take on. Can I call you Law?" 

"If it will stop you calling me "Laurel"." Lawhiney got back to her walking practice. She had no intention of giving into Geegaw about anything but she didn't want to annoy him if she could avoid it. He was, after all, the only person in Ranger HQ she could not avoid. Whether she was taking a shower or curled up in bed, her Spiritual Guide could drop in on her whenever he chose – unlike the Rescue Rangers.

The Rangers knew something was wrong with "Gadget", they just hadn't worked out what yet, so Lawhiney had taken to sheltering in Gadget's bedroom or hiding away in Gadget's workshop on the pretext that she either was, or was tired from, practicing with the crutches. It was now the only way to avoid conversations with the Rangers. 

Avoiding conversations with the Rangers was now Lawhiney's chief occupation. Monty had told her he had never known her to act the way she did now but he'd added that perhaps it had been time for a change. Chip had backed out of saying something romantic by saying he didn't remember her ever being quiet like this before. Dale had flat out said to her face that she sure was different since the crash and, all the time she was had to check over her shoulder to see if she was alone or whether Zipper was there, watching her silently from the corner of the room. When she did talk with them she mostly listened attentively or flattered them and all her answers were vague.

135

Gadget marched up to the main guard post at the entrance to her cellblock. She was so sure of herself and walked with such confidence that an inmate head and shoulders taller than Gadget stepped smartly out of her way.

The guards saw her coming from a distance and quickly abandoned and forgot their conversation in favour of straightening up and taking a firm hold of their nightsticks. Gadget saw them but didn't slow until she was just beyond the maximum range of their clubs. Then she stopped dead and stood calmly in front of them, her arms relaxed and her empty paws hanging by her side. 

"What do you want?" The shrew guard in the booth asked.

"I'd like to write a letter, please, Ms Shrewshank. I've come to you for paper and ink and the other things I'll need."

"You get a weekly ration so you can stay in touch with your friends and relatives on the outside." Ms Shrewshank acknowledged. "I wasn't aware you had relatives."

"I want to write to a friend and my time without privileges is up."

Ms Shrewshank frowned. "Are you sure? I think you've miss-counted. I thought you had longer." Before Gadget could say anything incriminating, Ms Shrewshank looked at a list on a clipboard. "No, I can't see you on the list. Very well then Red." 

Ms Shrewshank took some prison notepaper from below the counter in her booth and passed it to Gadget, along with a pen and a small square of card for her to press on.

"No envelope or stamp?" 

"Bring me the finished letter and I give you an envelope to write the address on. I put the stamp on when I've read it through to make sure there's nothing in breach of prison regulations in the letter. Do you know the prison regulations about correspondence?" 

"No. I don't." Gadget admitted. "Do you have copy I can borrow?"

"A copy of what?"

"The prison regulations. Or just the ones concerning correspondence." 

"Certainly not!" Ms Shrewshank looked shocked. "They cost money, you know."

"We did used to have a copy of the complete regulations chained to the desk here." One of the other guards put in. "Until someone filed through the chain and stole it." 

"People will steal anything in this place." Ms Shrewshank agreed.

"It would be easier to obey the rules if I knew what they all were." Gadget pointed out but she had learned enough by now to expect little joy in return.

"You find them out as you go along. Ask your cellmate. She's supposed to be looking after you, isn't she? She should know the rules of by heart by now." Ms Shrewshank dismissed her.

"Thank you, Ms Shrewshank. I'll do that." Gadget narrowed her eyes for a moment before turning smartly on her heel and marching away again, freedom clutched tightly in her hand.

136

It had become accepted custom for Lawhiney to read some of Gadget's diary to Geegaw every night before bed. She told him it was because she wanted to learn enough about Gadget to continue her ruse until she could escape. Geegaw claimed to allow it only because it would serve as an example to her of how to lead a better life. They both had ulterior motives. 

Lawhiney read the diary to Geegaw before bed in order to smooth over any little troubles between them during the day and to forestall any arguments that might lead to another nightmare, such as the one that had left her in a heap on the floor, ready to blubber a confession to the first person she saw. 

Geegaw allowed it because now he was earthbound his supply of news about Gadget had dried up and he was secretly desperate to hear anything at all about her. To be in the land of the living again, surrounded by his daughter's things and yet unable to see her or know what was happening to her, was the closest he had come to hell. 

"Today we discovered that Fat Cat had stolen a animatronic cartoon dog called Pluto from an amusement park and used it to hire several stray dogs as muscle for his turf war with another feline crime boss. It was an interesting device, the animatronic dog, I mean, not the ploy of stealing it and using it as a cat's paw, which is quiet an interesting phrase given the situation though. I wonder if Fat Cat was aware of the irony. Still, the dog was fascinating because most animatronics have a heavy base and lots of moving parts that make them complicated and expensive. Whoever had designed this one had used a simple fibreglass frame made of separate pieces linked by a single kind of universal joint with Teflon coated bearings. Are you sure you want me to read all four pages of the description of an animatronic cartoon character?" 

Geegaw waved his hand in confirmation. "You were the one who wanted to learn something from her diary. Now you can learn how an animatronic dog works." 

"When I get to the fold out double page of schematics, do you want me to describe it or just hold it up and show it to you?" 

"Nah, you can skip them, kid. Just carry on from where you left off."

"But it's all boring technical details. Your daughter's whole life is nothing but boring technical details!" 

"That's a life you were so envious of you tried to claim it for yourself." 

"It wasn't envy, it was hate, okay? I could never envy anything this boring."

"Uh-uh, you hated her because you were envious. You still envy her because she's famous and popular."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"DID NOT!"

"What other reason have you got?" Geegaw invited her. If she was angry enough to forget that Monty, Zipper and the 'munks might overhear her shouting at thin air, she was angry enough to talk.

Lawhiney rolled her eyes "Ooooh! I hate her for having a diary that reads like stereo instructions. Why can't she have a diary that's worth stealing?" 

Geegaw laughed. "Well, okay, but if you find all this technical stuff about elastic band crossbows and animatronic dogs so unimportant and boring, why make such a big thing out of being like someone who's life is filled with this kind of thing?" 

Lawhiney looked at him over the pages of the diary. After a moment she answered quietly and truthfully. "They used to say I looked like my mother. Then when I went out on my own they said I looked like whatever movie star I was imitating that month and I was dumb enough to take it as a compliment. When I finally got some sense and got away from the cities I was going to make my own look. Carve out a corner the world for my very own. Then your daughter turned up and no one said she looked like me. They all said that _I_ looked like _her_. " 

"So that's why you started to hate her?"

"No, you don't get it. You asked why I made a big deal out of looking like her. I DON'T LOOK LIKE HER. SHE LOOKS LIKE ME." 

"You put on the blue jumpsuit and used her name!" 

"She came to Hawaii and stole my look before I stole hers!" Lawhiney was almost tearful now. "I always had this face."

Geegaw considered this. True, he had been thinking things through from his daughter's point of view.  Until that moment when Gadget and Lawhiney met, Lawhiney must have believed she was one of a kind. To her Gadget was the interloper, Gadget the stranger, who had come to the island from far away and ruined Lawhiney's life. 

"You were the one who came up with the plan to swap places." Geegaw challenged her.

"Gadget was the one who agreed to it!"

Geegaw was momentarily stumped, confronted by the image of his daughter as a co-conspirator rather than a victim. "Well, you knew you were facing some dangerous tests the next day but you didn't warn Gadget about the danger!"   

"I knew she could handle it! I was going to be a queen before I met her and afterwards I wasn't even allowed to speak to anyone or look people in the eye!"

"You tried to bury an entire tribe in molten marshmallow!" 

Lawhiney stared at him. Then she burst out laughing. "Oh come on, how serious is that?" 

Geegaw gulped in disbelief.  

"I mean seriously, burying a bunch of people in hot marshmallow. That's not even a sin, is it?" She noticed his expression and stopped laughing. "Seriously? They're even holding that against me?" 

"Lawhiney, that's one of the big ones. I mean do you know how serious that could have been?"

"It's more funny than anything else. I mean, it's marshmallow; everyone would have been okay. A little sticky maybe, that's all." Lawhiney had begun to look worried. 

Geegaw sat on the end of her bed without making the slightest dent or impression on the covers, just as he had when she was in the hospital. Had that really been only a week ago? It seemed like a year or more. 

"Marshmallow isn't dangerous." Lawhiney pleaded. "Chief Hubba-Bubba got that big in the first place by raiding the hotel stock until he couldn't get through the mouse-hole in the back of their storeroom."

"Lawhiney, how dangerous it is depends on how hot it is and how hot it is depends on who, you for instance, has done what to the innards of that fake volcano. If you had succeeded in drenching that village you very likely would have burned someone, maybe lots of people, to death."

Lawhiney stared at him. He had made an impact. 

"I didn't _mean_ to!"

Geegaw rolled his eyes.

137

Geegaw's strategy wasn't entirely wrongheaded. The more Lawhiney read of Gadget's diary, the more she came to see her arch-nemesis differently. Lawhiney had always figured Gadget for a truly sharp player who had achieved everything Lawhiney herself had always aimed for and probably by the same means. Had she met Gadget under other circumstances she might have admired her but, in Lawhiney's eyes, Gadget had gone out of her way to ruin Lawhiney's Hawaiian scheme for reasons Lawhiney could only guess to be casual malice, jealousy towards a rival, or perhaps the manic egotism of a person who genuinely thought she was some kind of modern day saint. 

No doubt Gadget's diary told the Hawaiian story a different way though Lawhiney could only guess how different since the other volumes of Gadget's "Mental Telemetry" were safely locked away in the big, arcane looking chest Gadget kept in the corner of her bedroom. 

The person Lawhiney met in the diary she _did _have was an impossibly bright social misfit, who spent her entire life locked away in an ivory tower and only ever peeped at the outside world through rose-tinted windows. The fame, the admiration of everyone around her, the love of so many willing males, it was all hers to command and it had just landed in her lap like a lottery win. 

Lawhiney had told herself that a thing like that ought to add to her hate for Gadget but it didn't. The more she got to know the real Gadget the harder it was to hate. The same was true of the other Rescue Rangers. It was difficult to fear and hate people who were suddenly right in front of you and not just acting normally but treating you kindly on a daily basis. 

Zipper was bright, cheerful and expressive and, if you let him start, would chatter until your ears fell off. At first Lawhiney had dealt with this by nodding and trying not to let on she didn't have a clue what he was saying but after a week in the tree she was sure she could understand him as well as Chip, if perhaps not as well as Monty.

Monty's stories were dull and he didn't always notice when Lawhiney feigned choking to death in order to avoid hearing any more of them but he was sympathetic to nearly every other ache and pain she had. He also knew when to back off and give her enough room. That made him a one of a kind in Lawhiney's experience. 

Dale was everything she had thought he was all that time ago when she had stolen the Ranger Plane out from under him. When he wasn't doing something that made her want to yell at him, he was doing something that made her want to laugh, which hurt her stitches, which made her want to yell at him again.

Chip was slightly obnoxious, occasionally pompous and always egotistical. He hid these qualities pretty well most of the time, especially around her, but Lawhiney could spot them because they were as much part of her as they were part of him. Not that she would admit it, any more than he would. That was something else they had in common. If things had been different perhaps Lawhiney would have considered Chip to be a decent match but not even the dent a month in hospital and a week in Ranger HQ had put in her social life was enough to make her consider romancing him under these circumstances. 

138

"What I don't understand is why you didn't just scribble out a note, you know something like: Help! Chip, I'm in jail and by the way that's not who you think it is warming her feet under the dinner table!" 

Bubbles was lying on her back staring up at the graffiti on the cell ceiling. In theory Red could lie on the same bunk during the day, staring at the same graffiti as Bubbles was staring at now, doing whatever she pleased while Bubbles was at work. Staring at the scratchily drawn picture of several hard muscled mice, Bubbles somehow knew that her cellmate had done nothing of the kind.

"I told you. I wanted to wait for you to get back in from work before I started writing so you could tell me about the regulations regarding prisoner's correspondence. As far as I can see, this is the last chance I have to be legitimately free this side of the spring thaw and I don't want to blow it because the prison has some rule about no split infinitives or using IZE spellings instead of ISE spellings where possible." 

Bubbles tried to keep her laughter as silent. When she could speak she said as steadily as possible: "Red, they don't have those kind of rules about prisoner's letters. Do you really think they care that we might use bad grammar?" 

"Somehow I didn't think so." Red murmured. "But you know what I mean. This letter's important to me and I don't want it bouncing because of some pointless regulation that I never heard of." 

Bubbles sighed. "The rules are, no discussing anything that might be grounds for a complaint against the prison authorities by you or some other inmate at some future point in time. That one's because it might, quote: affect the proceedings of an enquiry or a trial resulting from said complaint. Or to put it another way, don't go spreading horrid stories about how nasty Officer Haggs punched you in the face when you first arrived because she might not get invited to any more garden parties at the governor's residence. And then she'd have to come down here and punch you again." 

"Don't complain. Got it." 

"Next rule: No smutty stuff." 

Slight pause.

Bubbles frowned for a moment. "Hey, Red, you do know what I mean by smutty stuff, right? I mean different people have different opinions, the line is drawn in a different place each person, etcetera and so on."

Red was oddly quiet, for Red that is. 

"Uh, sure." She said eventually.

"I mean sometimes you come across as really innocent and I mean really, really innocent. Like you're somebody's maiden aunt in waiting or something, ya know what I mean?" 

Slight pause. 

"Not really."

"Sure you do, Red. Everyone's got an aunt like that. The size of most rodent families, you're lucky if you don't have two."

"I don't have any. As far as I know, I'm an orphan."

Bubbles winced and rolled her eyes. "Well, that ain't so bad. I can't tell you the grief my mother gave me after I was convicted for the first time and I told her I wasn't working as a secretary."

"My mother was eaten when I was about four or five. At least, we think she was eaten. I only really see her face in dreams now."

Bubbles winced again. Her rule was three strikes and she was out of any conversation. Less than that was lacked confidence. More and you were asking for someone to bust you in the chops. 

"Five. That's a rough time to lose a mom."

"Yes."

"I know a lot of orphans."

"Who doesn't?"

Bubbles let that one hang for a moment, wondering whether it counted as strike three. Then she realised it could be taken another way. "Orphanage, huh? Hope it was one of the good ones. From what I've seen, you deserve that." 

Bubbles tried not to think about the alternative. She had said that she knew a lot of orphans. She hadn't said that she met most of them in prison and that very few of them had gone to the good orphanages. She'd heard the stories and sometimes she'd heard the tears. Some of the orphans she knew regarded prison as a home away from home – some even preferred it to home. 

"My father raised me."

"That was good of him. Some guys just aren't interested in kids. Don't want the bother I guess. I mean it's nice that he didn't dump you with some relative who didn't want you or put you into some place that says orphanage above the door so people don't actually call it a school for crooks."

"They tried to take me away from him. Six months after Mom disappeared and they decided she'd been eaten, some people showed up at the door. They'd been to visit a couple of times before and mostly they'd helped out. One of them was rich, I remember that, and another one was someone official with a lot of papers." 

"What happened?"

"Dad told them it was my birthday. He persuaded them to come back after my party. I didn't know what he was talking about but I liked the idea of a party so much that I didn't say anything. After they left I asked why he had told them it was my birthday. It never occurred to me that he had lied. It just wasn't that sort of thing that I thought parents could do. He told me that because the helpful people wanted me to take me to a nice place for little girls whose mothers had been eaten he wanted to give me my birthday early so he could share it with me. Then he told me that for a special birthday treat I could sit on his lap and fly in his aeroplane with him." 

Bubbles laughed openly this time. "Where did you land?" 

"I don't remember but when I ate breakfast it felt more like lunch the next day and we ate on top of the W in the Hollywood sign." Red's voice actually sighed with pleasure at the treasured memory. 

"You had a picnic?"

"They used to have a restaurant there. With tables and the paper umbrellas that humans put in cocktail drinks. And the weather was sunny."

"What did you eat?"

"Cheese omelette on a cucumber slice." 

Bubbles heard her stomach growl. "They don't serve that in here."

"Not even for Gadget Hackwrench."

Bubbles smiled. Was that an admission or an apology? "Now _She_ is going to make somebody a great maiden aunt."

"What do you mean by that?" There was an arch in Red's voice.

"Wha- Nothing, nothing at all. I just don't think she's the marrying kind, that's all." 

"Oh. What kind do you think she is?"

"Oh, she's definitely spinster material."

"WHAT!?" Red seemed genuinely outraged.

"Oh, I don't mean you, Red. I'm sure you'll find someone – well, not in here but someday, after you get out, may it be soon. " 

"That's nice, Bubbles, but I still want to know how come you think Gadget Hackwrench is spinster material."

Bubbles rolled her eyes. "Gee, I don't know. She's what, twenty-five and the newspapers have never linked her with anyone romantically." 

"So what? She's not a super-star; she's an inventor and a Rescue Ranger. Strictly speaking the papers shouldn't go anywhere near someone's personal life, unless they're a public figure which rescue rangers are not, any more than a fire-fighter or a member of the street-watch. It's hardly front page news if a girl goes out on a date, after all!" 

Red sounded embarrassed and defensive. For the life of her Bubbles couldn't imagine why. Best just to concede the point and let it go.

"Ah, you're right Red. For all we know she's hooked up with all of the other Rangers, including the fly." 

There was a startled yelp from the lower bunk and an angry pair of eyes rose over the edge to stare at Bubbles with wounded indignation. 

"Bubbles! How could you say that? I thought you were my friend!" 

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Relax, Red. I am your friend, I'm just not _Her_ friend." Bubbles left no doubt who she was referring to.

Red looked momentarily heartbroken. "Oh. I see. I thought maybe I was mistaken but, I guess if that's how you feel about it…" 

"Feel about? Aw, hey, Red! It's getting crowded in this cell! I feel like I'm sharing with three people in here. You, me and Gadget Hackwrench!" 

Red looked glanced sideways at her. "Uh, no. It's just you and me." 

"Red!" Bubbles drew the name out long and low. "Look, I know Hackwrench is someone special to you but has it ever occurred to you that she might not feel the same way about you? She's got this whole great life. Her career, being a hero, she's smart and beautiful and if she's not famous then she's close. I mean have you ever wondered how she'd treat you if she met you in the street?" 

"Uh?" Red looked lost. "No, it never really crossed my mind."

"If Hackwrench walked into someone like you in the street, what would she do? Really, what do you think she'd do?"

"I don't know." Red admitted. "She'd say: Hey, you're just like me, I guess." 

"You think that's what she'd see? Someone just like her? She'd see someone who can't get through life without clinging on to someone more successful, somebody looking at her with needy eyes. A parasite. A person with no friends, no job, no life, no-" 

Bubbles stopped herself before she said the word: Family. She hadn't meant to push it so hard and now she'd probably ruined a friendship. She should have taken Red's remark about knowing lots of orphans as the third strike and abandoned the conversation. 

Hard eyed, Bubbles stared at the picture above her bunk. She expected to hear pained silence or quiet sobbing from her cellmate. Instead she felt a gentle tug on her elbow. 

"Bubbles, you're wrong about something. I do have friends. Even in here. I have you and you're a good friend. I know you're just trying to help me see the world… _clearly_."

Bubbles looked at her wearily. "You're not mad at me?" 

"No. No, I'm not angry but I want to know: Is that how you really see me? A parasite without a life of my own?" 

"Sometimes. It's just most people are so busy trying to lead their own lives, I guess when people see someone trying so hard to lead someone else's life there's an automatic assumption that person must be messed up." 

"What about Gadget? Is that really how you see her?"

"Huh?" Bubbles looked blank.

"Remote, distant. Looking down on everybody, even when she's on the ground." To a pilot the distinction was important.   

"Yeah, that's about it. Sees everyone as some poor creature to be rescued, or doesn't notice them at all." 

Red winced at that. "Perhaps. Do you really think she's that unfeeling?"

"Ah, maybe not unfeeling. She is a Rescue Ranger, after all, but I can't see her caring about the likes of us. After all, as far as she's concerned we're bad guys and all bad guys are scum. They wouldn't cross a pavement or lift a finger to rescue a crook, an ex-crook or anyone who looked like thinking of becoming a crook. If you're not a hero or a potential rescue she just wouldn't have time for you."  

"I guess you're right there." Red admitted. 

"She'd look right though you." 

Red frowned as a difficult thought took shape. "I've never seen Gadget Hackwrench the way you see her but I'm starting to feel like she's been looking straight through me my entire life. I promise you this though, Bubbles. When I get out of here that's going to change. I see myself in a different way now. I'm not going to be the person I was before." 

"You mean it? You won't pretend to be Gadget Hackwrench any more? Because you know, you don't have to wait until you get out-" Bubbles broke off at the sight of Red shaking her head. 

"Oh, I'll always think I'm Gadget Hackwrench. I think you're going to have to live with that. But Gadget Hackwrench definitely isn't going to be overlooking the real me any more. Not once I get out of here." 

Bubbles arched an eyebrow. "Oh no, not any more. I was forgetting how being in here improves your social standing."

They shared a dry chuckle.

"Say, Red." Bubbles put in. "I don't want to be spoil sport but I don't think it's such a good idea you trying to get the Rangers attention. Now or ever, in here or on the outside and, while we're at it, you just reminded me of rule three." 

"Rule three?" Red blinked vacantly. 

"Yeah, you know, what we were talking about? Me helping you write your letter? Not that I think you should write to the Rangers but you should definitely write to someone. A person with a connection on the outside doesn't have such a tough time when they get out of a place like this. Anyhow, if rule one is no talking bad about the guards and rule two is no raunchy stuff, rule three would be don't ever write anything threatening down in a letter. In fact you have to be careful not to write anything that could be twisted around to sound like a threat." 

"No threats, or anything that sounds like it could be a threat. Got it." 

Bubbles watched Red closely. She hoped her friend got it. The way Red had spoken with utter certainty when she said that Gadget Hackwrench would have to pay her some attention when she got out of prison sent a chill up Bubble's back. 

139

"I've decided that I'm going to pay another visit to that mouse-girl that got fifteen years for impersonating you, Gadget." Chip dropped the monkey wrench into the Lawhiney's plans as though announcing that the weather forecast was for rain again. 

Lawhiney looked at him from across the breakfast table. Gadget, it seemed, always sat opposite both chipmunks, with Monty and Zipper at the head and foot of the table respectively. Lawhiney knew enough formal etiquette to know that couples were supposed to sit facing each other and the chipmunks seemed to know what the seating arrangements implied too, since they were always trying to edge each other off to one side. The end result seemed to be that the space opposite her was split evenly between them every mealtime. 

Lawhiney opened her mouth to just flat out ask Chip, as Gadget, not to visit the prison where her double was being held and realised something that stopped her dead. Milk and breakfast cereal ran down her chin. 

Chip was wearing his hat at the table. He even had the brim pulled down so that the shadow concealed his eyes. Not only in the house, which he seldom did unless he was working but at the table, during a meal, which he never did because apparently it was bad manners. Lawhiney knew this from listening to Dale's teasing on previous occasions. 

He was working. 

Chip was working a case, right here in their kitchen. 

More specifically, Chip Maplewood, leader of the Rescue Rangers was working on HER case and if she squinted into the shade under the brim of his hat carefully enough to make out his eyes she would see a suspect reflected in them. 

_HE KNOWS!_

Part of her brain shrieked it. The thought was so loud; it was a wonder that Monty and Dale didn't find themselves thinking it right along with her without knowing why.

As if that wasn't enough for one breakfast, Lawhiney suddenly saw Geegaw standing behind Chip and looking down as though the detective's secret thoughts were pinned to the back of his hat just so Geegaw could read them. Her Guide had faded in without Lawhiney noticing the exact point when he became visible. Before she could drag her mind back to pretending to be Gadget, Geegaw caught her eye and gave a faint, grim nod. 

140

"He knows." Lawhiney hissed in the relative safety of Gadget's workshop. "How could he know? How could he know? Everything was going so smoothly."

"How could he know?" Geegaw repeated. "Listen princess, from day one the big question has been how could he NOT know! If you thought you could keep stringing him along until little Roche was ready to leave home and start a family of his own, the only one you've been fooling around here is yourself." 

"But what tipped him off? What gave me away? Why doesn't he just slap on the handcuffs and haul me off prison to swap for the real Gadget?" 

"As to the first question: I don't know. I don't imagine either of us will ever know, unless we somehow find ourselves in a position to ask him when he feels like telling. Could be your scent. Maybe he can just make it out enough of it though that engine oil you've been dabbing behind your ears to tell the difference. Or perhaps it's the fact that you haven't touched one of Gadget's inventions since the day you came back. They cleaned up your workshop and you never made a peep. Maybe that was it. Or perhaps it's the fact that the place is still cleared up when you've been here a full five days. Perhaps he started to get suspicious when you didn't flirt with Sparky, Gadget's old boyfriend, at the welcome home party. It doesn't really matter which particular slip it was, assuming it wasn't all of them together. All that matters is that he's on to you and now it's only a matter of time." 

Geegaw's words came fast and hard and gave Lawhiney no time to think for herself. She found herself rushed into just accepting them as truth. "I was so close. A week until I could walk. I would have left behind a letter explaining everything, Geegaw, I swear it." 

"Maybe that's true and maybe not. As to your second question, that's a better one. Why doesn't he just throw you behind bars and start taking bets on how far they can throw the key? Perhaps knowing is the wrong word for it. His heart knows you're an impostor but Chip doesn't live in his heart, he lives in his head. I've seen his kind before; rational to the bone, all about reason and logic and evidence and proof and all those other things detectives love so much."

Lawhiney was shaking her head, tears falling in denial but Geegaw didn't let up. His hard eyes held hers without flinching. 

"Chip's just like everyone else in the world." Geegaw told her. "He thinks the world on the outside of his head runs the same way as the world inside his head. Kind of goes to what you were saying about how you see the world differently from the Rangers; people always see the world on their own terms and to a rational person that means seeing it as a rational place."

"I have to do something. It's going to be another week before I can walk, let alone escape!" Lawhiney sobbed.

"Do something? You should have done something the moment you could talk. You should have explained who you were, told the truth, asked for forgiveness. With a baby on the way, a confession you didn't have to make and a display of contrition, the Rangers might have done no more than ship you back to Hawaii. Now you've dug yourself in too deep and there's no way out of this for you except jail. You can't expect anyone to believe your conscience got the better of you after a week of sleeping in Gadget's bed." 

Lawhiney closed her eyes and reached deep into herself to draw on reserves she had never known she had. She took two deep, slow breaths and the tears stopped falling. She spoke: "Tell me what you want me to do."

"Go to Monty. Talk to him in private. Start by reminding him about Hawaii. Tell him who you really are, Lawhiney, and tell him that you're ready to go to prison and pay for your mistakes. Just ask him to help you go quietly and discretely without upsetting too many people."  

Lawhiney shook her head so hard she practically reeled. "All you care about is getting your daughter out of trouble!" 

"You don't have the faintest idea what or who I care about! You've read Gadget's diary, not mine!"

"You only became my Guide to help her!"

"Oh really? Is that what you think?" Geegaw glowered at her. "Well I've got a shock for you, sweetheart, because that's not how it works! I didn't choose you for anything – I was chosen for you!"

"What? I don't believe it!

"It's true! In fact, they pulled me out of training just to look out for you. I didn't even want this job. Truth is, I argued against it. You were the last person I wanted to help after the history I've had with your – but that doesn't matter because from what I've heard the guy who set this up thinks I'm the _only_ one that stands even a faint chance of keeping your hairy little hind-end out of the brimstone!"

"The only one?" Lawhiney stared at him, dumbfounded, for two seconds. Then, when she finally realised how dismal her prospects were, she was wracked with hysterical laughter. 

"Fine, laugh it up, fuzzball. We'll see how funny you think it is when Chip gets back from the big house with Gadget in tow and a big stick with your name on it." 

"How did they think that you being Gadget's father would help me to repent? Was I supposed to come over all guilty just because I had a constant reminder of someone I'd wronged hanging around? Not that I need a constant reminder. She's all around me every moment of the day. I only have to look in the mirror!"  

Geegaw looked sharply away in embarrassment and growled. "I don't think being Gadget's father came into it at all. Not when it comes to helping you, oh no. I think they have another reason for wanting me to take your case. What you might call an ulterior motive."

"What?"

"Oh, I don't know what they want for sure; for me to make a choice between being Gadget's father and being a Guide, maybe. I don't know that I can make that choice the way they want me to. It might be that when the time comes I'll have to leave you, Lawhiney, because I can't stay with their program." 

Lawhiney stared at him. It took her a little while to digest what she'd just heard. When she did one thing became clear. Once again she was being told that she wasn't as important as she thought. She shook her head to clear it and something else that Geegaw had said came back to her. "You weren't out of training? What am I a practice run or something?"  

"Huh, what's that?" Geegaw looked a puzzled and then a little guilty. "Oh, I see. No, it's not quite like that. This is no practice run, Law, it's the real thing for both of us. Sort of what you might call a final exam. Either we both graduate with honours or we crash and, well, you get the idea."

Lawhiney blinked. "Both? I don't understand." 

Geegaw sighed heavily. "Being a Guide isn't some jolly game where you get to stand over someone's shoulder looking all mysterious and ethereal and point out their mistakes from a safe distance. It's not like being a social worker, or a probation officer either. It can be an act of giving because you see someone in need and you want to help, or it can be more like an act of contrition where you try to make up for something you've done wrong. In my case, it's the latter." 

"Oh great – I got a defective Spirit Guide!" 

"Not defective. It's not even that strange. Think about it, by definition a Guide is someone who shows you through a strange place that you don't know. You don't know it because you've never been there but they know it because they've been there plenty of times and they know where the path gets slippery next to a sheer drop and where all the good places to stop and rest are and why that fork in the path that looks like a nice shadowed trail is a bad idea 'cause it leads to some place you don't want to go that you might not be able to come back from." 

Lawhiney glared at him, her eyes bloodshot, sullen and darkly ringed. "You better never try to take the moral high ground with me again, Mister. Not after admitting that!" 

Geegaw allowed himself to look chagrined. "Taking the moral high ground is never a good idea with you, kiddo. It's too crowded. I might get stepped on."

Lawhiney found herself wanting to laugh and cry at the same time. She settled for poking out her tongue at him. 

"Manners, kiddo." 

"You think they'll add to my time downstairs for that?"

"Maybe."

"How long? An hour? Five minutes?" 

Geegaw slumped down heavily in her vacant wheelchair. The wheels didn't budge, even though the chair's break was off.

"I don't know." He said. "Five minutes onto forever won't seem like much, I guess. Personally I'd let you off with a tap across the nose from my finger, or a good tug on the tail, but I'm not the one who keeps the score." He looked at her sorrowfully. "Heck, Law, I've got no real reason to care what happens to you except to impress my boss. I've got plenty of reason to wish you ill, more reason than you know or can guess, reasons that have got nothing to do with Gadget, but…" He looked at her sadly. "In spite of everything I'd still let you walk away, raise your kid and then distract Saint Pete to let you squeak through the pearly gates when your time came, if it was in my power."

"You mean that?"  

"Sure, kiddo. You aren't easy to get along with, let alone like, but I wouldn't see you suffer if I could help it and I can forgive you for being the way you are. Especially since what you've done hasn't brought you anything but hardship and harm." 

Lawhiney thought about it. "Hardship and harm." She repeated. "Can't argue with that. As long as the world thinks I'm her, I have everything I could want. I could probably knock over a bank just by walking in with some story about needing to pay a kidnap ransom and asking the manager to give me everything in the vault. There's a small army of admirers out there willing to worship me in any way I ask but I'm sitting here and I feel like I've lost everything." 

She looked at Geegaw sadly. "I don't have anything that's really mine and all the things I did that were sweet at the time, they're like seeds that I planted that either never grew or that turned into something nasty I had to run away from." 

"Doing wrong is like that." Geegaw told her. 

The pair sat in silence and watched each other until the silence between them seemed wider than the room itself. Neither wanted to break the wordless standoff. They both knew there was only one way it could be broken.

Eventually, Geegaw said: "Are you ready to go and talk to Monty yet?"

And Lawhiney whispered: "Please? Not quite yet?" 


	21. Lawhiney Beats the Devil

**_Disclaimer _**

_In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone… except a certain kind of lawyer. _

**Chapter Twenty-One **

**Lawhiney Beats the Devil **

141 

_Monterey Jack Colby _

_Rescue Rangers _

_C/O Post Master 13371 _

_City Park Post Office _

_Dear Monty, _

_I hope that when you get this you can read it somewhere private without mentioning it to anyone, including – well, me, I guess, and that you sit down and think about it before doing anything that would be a perfectly normal and reasonable action under the circumstances, such as tearing this letter up and cursing uncontrollably about being sent a letter full of twaddle, or losing your temper and ripping a certain someone's head off. _

_First off, although it's very strange introducing myself to someone who changed my diapers for a time when I was a baby and, I might add, who has certainly never let me forget it, I suppose I should tell you straight out who I am in case you don't recognise my handwriting… or narrative style, come to that which Chip once told me was unique for its approach to paragraphs and punctuation, though I'm sure I don't know what he meant since everybody uses punctuation in the same way even if some people do use a lot more of it than others. _

_Monty, this may come as a shock to you and I know you might not believe me without proof but I'm Gadget Hackwrench and the person that survived the attempted robbery on the museum, who you have staying with you right now, isn't. I'm in prison, Monty. Please come get me…._

Red's letter was written on the regulation prison issue notepaper, which was about the thickness of tissue paper and came complete with Shrankshaw Prison crest at the top. Her handwriting was a neat, regular script with generous loops in the long letters and a friendly, optimistic slant to the right of the page. 

"Well? What do you think?" Red was nearly hopping from one foot to the other. 

Bubbles smiled forlornly at the letter. "You can't send this." 

"What? But I stuck to the rules!" 

Bubbles sighed heavily. "I know, Red, but I guess I forgot one. You can't use a letter for any kind of criminal activity." 

Red gaped at her. "Huh?" 

"Actually I guess you can, but you'd have to be a moron to try it because you'd get busted so fast your head would spin." 

"But I didn't-" 

"Yeah, yeah, I know. But Red, right here you claim to be Gadget Hackwrench, which is something you've just been sentenced to fifteen years for." 

Red blushed and hung her ears. "But Bubbles…" 

"In a letter to a Rescue Ranger, no less. I mean seriously, the first thing he's going to do is show the letter to the warden." 

"Well, that's sort of the idea." 

Bubbles chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Of course it is. You know, if you got caught robbing someone's home because you walked out the front door into a crowded street with a load of their stuff in your arms, they don't take time off your sentence for being stupid." 

Red looked hurt. "I'm not stupid. Even if you do think I'm crazy, that's not the same thing as stupid." 

"I know, Red." Bubbles folded the letter and handed it back to her. "I'm not trying to hurt your feelings, it's just that, well, I don't think you've really thought this out properly. Not from the point of view of those of us who –" 

"Who think I'm crazy?" 

"Who are just trying to help you." Bubbles looked at her sternly. "I don't think you've thought about it but the first thing that would happen if a guard saw this is they'd haul you in front of the warden, who would make some speech about how disappointed she was in you and maybe the special wing is the right place for you after all, even if Haggs is working there. Then maybe you'd find yourself relying on Haggs' nice manners for every little thing you can't do for yourself when you're in a straitjacket. Think about that some." 

Red winced. "I already had a sample of that. When Chip came to visit me, Haggs gagged me and made me wear a hockey mask and a straitjacket. I sneezed and she wouldn't give me a tissue." 

"Gah, Red! I'm not talking about that kind of stuff. That's the kinda' thing a kid brother might do. If you complained about that, people would actually laugh at you. They'd think it was funny. I'm talking about the stuff that's really basic to your dignity as a person. Don't think she wouldn't make you beg for every little thing she could think of, Red." Bubbles fixed her with a warning stare. "She'd do more than make you beg." 

Red hung her head. "I'm sorry." 

"Don't be sorry, be careful next time. Do you have any more paper?" 

"They gave me three sheets. I only used one, just in case I had to do it over." 

"Well, that's something. Do you want to have another go by yourself, or would you like me to sit next to you and help you plan out what you're going to say?" 

"I'll have another go myself." 

"You'd better destroy this one." Bubbles handed the letter back. "They might think call it evidence of something." 

"A month ago I never would have believed a judge or jury would take a letter like this seriously." 

"Ha! You won't see a jury for anything you do in here, short of murder. For anything less serious than that there's a visiting magistrate who comes in once a month, has tea and biscuits in the warden's office and then asks you if you have anything to say before telling you how long he decided to add to your sentence while chatting to the guards." 

"Do you get a lawyer?" 

"Are you kidding me? No, you don't get a lawyer. You're in prison; you're already guilty." 

Red looked slightly shocked. "That's not right. A crime is as much a crime if it happens in a prison as anywhere else. It should be treated the same way." 

"Well, it doesn't make much difference. If they tack six months on to your sentence it just means you have to wait longer to be turned down by the parole board." 

Red sat on her bunk and looked at her letter. "Suppose I just cut the part with my name?" 

"Are you sure there's no one else you could write to?" 

"I'm sure." Red said quietly. 

_Monterey Jack Colby _

_Rescue Rangers _

_C/O Post Master 13371 _

_City Park Post Office _

_Dear Monty, _

_Please don't lose your temper while you're reading this, either with me for writing it or with anyone around you when you realise I'm writing nothing but the truth. If you haven't already recognised my handwriting then I have to ask you to bear with me because I can't write my real name here – my cellmate says the guards wouldn't let me send the letter if I did because they don't believe me when I say who I am. Lots of people won't believe me. I've even had moments of doubt myself. _

_Monty, I don't know if you remember my tenth birthday party. It was the one Geegaw managed to throw in the Apollo 11 capsule by walking in like a normal visitor and then handing out party hats and streamers to a passing school party when the museum guides weren't looking. I always suspected that you had something to do with keeping them busy while I blew out the pretend paper candles on my birthday cake. I don't think that party is a well-known story about my life, though I never really thought about any part of my life as being well known or public until I found myself surrounded by an angry mob who thought I was an impostor. _

_Monty, it's me – Geegaw's daughter. That little mouseling you bounced on your knee and promised to make cheese ice cream for when dad got himself locked up in Tangiers over that misunderstanding with the emerald scarab from the tomb of Pharaoh Cheaphatandsuit. That's probably something not many people know about either unless you've forgotten which stories are the ones you're supposed not to tell again… _

_Monty, please, whether you believe me or not, just come and see me at the prison. I'm the one everyone says ISN'T Gadget Hackwrench. They call me Red here. Make sure they let you TALK with me. Chip came and they had me gagged, masked, straitjacketed and doped to the eyeballs so I couldn't make him understand. Please come, Monty, even if it's only so you can tell me off in person for eavesdropping that conversation you had with Chip the morning he left to find out who was impersonating us. Speaking of which, how come you didn't tell me that a certain Hawaiian hoaxer was running all over the country dragging my name in the mud behind her? _

Bubbles finished reading the letter. She folded it respectfully before handing it back to Red. 

Privately, Bubbles found herself warming to the image of Red's father as someone who would whisk his daughter away from the jaws of an orphanage to eat delicacies on the Hollywood sign and arrange a surprise birthday party that was more of a surprise to the people hosting the party than to the person receiving it. In fact she was slightly envious of the dashing and roguish father figure in Red's letter. He sounded almost too good to be true. 

Of course, that was the problem. 

Bubbles found it far easier to picture the infant Red being whisked away from a father still grieving from the loss of his wife; to imagine a lost and frightened child spending night after miserable night spinning stories to herself about being rescued from whatever cold and lonely place she had found herself in. Eventually any child would come to believe such stories. 

"So what do you think, Bubbles? 

Bubbles stared at the graffiti over her bunk and thought for a moment. "Well, I think your Dad's really cool." 

"Aw, come on, you know what I mean. Will this letter do?" 

"Yeah, well, I can't see that the guards would really know what you're talking about, so I don't think they'd censor it, but I still think this Monty guy is going to come over here and ask the warden to have you thrown into solitary." 

"Thank you Bubbles, I'll take that chance." 

"Your loss." Bubbles went back to staring at the ceiling. 

After a moment or two she became aware that she was sharing the cell with an intent, curious silence. She continued to look at the picture above her bunk but her mind was on the Red-shaped chunk of quiet interest hovering near her elbow. Her eyes wanted to look at the patch of silence to confirm what Bubbles suspected, but Bubbles wouldn't allow it. She didn't have to look; she knew Red was there and she knew what Red was doing. 

Red would be gazing in wrapped fascination, her eyes following Bubbles' own to the graffiti on the ceiling. She could even picture Red's expression: Big blue eyes getting even bigger, mouth open so wide her jaw threatened to fall off altogether. Bubbles tried to ignore the silence but it seemed to grow until it filled the entire cell and threatened to smother them both. 

Finally, Bubbles could stand it no more. "What?!" She screamed. "What is it? Haven't you ever seen a picture like this before? Did your father keep you blindfolded until you were of age??!!" 

142 

In the darkest early hours of the morning Lawhiney lay awake and tussled with the idea of making a run (or perhaps a hobble) for freedom. 

Eventually she went to the front door on her crutches and looked down at the narrow steps that wound around the trunk of the tree to the ground. She had only made it up those steps in the first place by keeping her hands over her eyes while Monty carried her. Ranger HQ was definitely no place for an invalid with vertigo, let alone a wheelchair. 

So instead of fleeing, Lawhiney spent the morning watching the sunrise from the Ranger's front door. She viewed it with the intense interest of a condemned prisoner seeing one for the last time. She tried to imagine what a sunrise might look like from behind bars but could not, perhaps because part of her did not want to. 

"I'm sorry, Lawhiney." Her Guide said. "But you really are leaving it to the last minute to make good, you know." 

"I want to go to the hospital first. Get at least one of these splints off. Do I have time for that?" She asked him. 

"Yes. I _think_ so." He sounded unsure. 

"You think so?" 

Geegaw smiled at her and winked. "Difficult to see. Always in motion, the future is." He croaked. 

Lawhiney snorted and tossed her hair at him. 

Three hours later Lawhiney was back in a wheelchair; a hospital one this time, not the one that had been loaned to her. An orderly, who was being closely watched by Monty and Dale for any sign of suspicious behaviour, was pushing her along a corridor towards a consulting room where Doctor Bell was waiting. 

The orderly left her in the middle of the consulting room without a word. Doctor Bell looked tired and busy. He didn't speak either. 

"Hello doctor." Lawhiney said in her best perky Gadget voice. 

Doctor Bell twitched as if poked unexpectedly. 

"Hello." He agreed after a moment. 

"Is something wrong?" 

"No. Nothing you need concern yourself with." The doctor crossed the room to view a picture of Lawhiney's skeleton on the light box. When he moved, Lawhiney found herself looking Geegaw straight in the eye. Her guide had once again appeared without letting her see how he did it; this time he had installed himself in a shaded corner between a screen and an examination table. 

"He's lying." Geegaw said matter-of-factly. "But only because he wants to do well by you as a Doctor." 

Lawhiney nodded, understanding completely. So that was precisely where she kicked the good doctor to make him tell everything. 

"As your patient, I would be truly alarmed if I thought there was something that affected my health that you weren't explaining to me." 

"What? There's no need to be!" 

"I'm not even sure an ethical doctor could place himself in the position of keeping something back from a patient." 

Doctor Bell looked stricken. He winced. "I'm sorry you feel that way, but your well being is my number one priority." 

"That's very comforting, except that I can see from your expression that something about your number one priority is clearly troubling you." 

The young pack rat hung his head. His white coat looked too big for him, like something he would have to grow into. "Your regular hospital finally managed to dig out your records and send them on to us. Frankly, the delay was unforgivable in my view but it seems that they had trouble locating your file because your doctor was on holiday. The problem is there's a lot of stuff in your file that doesn't match up with, well, bluntly with your actual body." 

Lawhiney swallowed hard. "What exactly do you mean?" 

"I don't see any sign of you having had your tonsils removed, or of the three cat-claw scars across your back. Your blood type is compatible with the one in the file, but not identical. You seem to be missing all sorts of cuts and scrapes that you've had from your work as a ranger and there are ultrasound pictures of your bones that don't match up with the ones we've made here." 

"Now would be a good time to 'fess up, Law." Geegaw hinted. 

"Uh, how is that possible?" Lawhiney ignored her guide. 

"It isn't." Doctor Bell said. 

"What are you saying?" 

"I don't know, but one thing's for sure. I can't treat you using the records they sent me." 

"What are you going to do?" 

"I don't know." He sat on the examination table. "To tell you the truth, I don't know what to make of it. It's almost as if these notes were describing someone else." 

"Really?" Lawhiney tried to keep her eyes innocent and pleasant but her smile was becoming forced and she could feel it. 

"I'm no detective but I've been trying to explain it and I've been coming up with some pretty wild theories, I don't mind telling you." 

"Such as?" 

"Ah heck, I'm embarrassed. I'd come across someone who's watched too many medical whodunits on TV. I guess the simplest answer is that your old hospital really doesn't know how to look after its patient's notes properly; that they took four weeks to find your records and then they've sent the wrong ones on to us." He shrugged as though discarding the topic and went back to the light box on the wall. 

Lawhiney watched him carefully and when he looked at her sideways and spoke casually, she was ready for it. 

"You have to admit," he said, "knowing that someone's been running around impersonating Gadget Hackwrench, doing all kinds of things in her name, it would be only natural for someone to jump to some _long_ conclusions when a thing like this crops up." 

"Completely." She agreed without hesitation. 

"Still, we can't have the paper work messed up like this. Mistake like this could kill someone down the line. Could cause a drug allergy or a pre-existing medical condition to be overlooked. That's why I've asked your regular doctor to come in today and take a look at your records. He can see how you're doing while he's here." 

"Doctor Frisk." Lawhiney had forced herself to remember the name the first time she had heard it, almost two weeks ago now. "How is he? I remember thinking that he needed to take a break the last time I saw him." 

"Well refreshed. A little annoyed that one of his favourite patients seems to have been stolen away by a certain young upstart." Doctor Bell kidded her. 

"Oh? Perhaps I should go back to him." 

"I hope you shall, in the long run. Now, if you don't mind putting your arms around me, I intend to lift you on to the examination table." 

"Why Doctor, you could almost be asking me for a hug." 

Doctor Bell's smile became forced and rigid. "I can call the orderly back if you prefer." 

Lawhiney held her arms up in a parody of a ballet dancer posing on one toe. Doctor Bell took it as assent and bent at the knees to duck his head under her hands. For a few seconds they danced the careful, intimate dance of a carer and a helpless invalid trying not to get each other hurt, before the doctor managed to get Lawhiney to sit the edge of the examination table. 

The young doctor sighed heavily. "Gadget, if I can call you that, treating you has been one of the most amazing experiences of my career. You may or may not be-" he paused briefly "-the only famous person I ever get to treat but you are certainly one of the most remarkable, medically. You've survived a thirty mile an hour air crash, a fall from the top of a five story building and an attempted kidnapping that ended with someone trying to strangle you, all in the space of about a month. Added to which you're pregnant – starting to show, by the way – and now here you are, getting around on crutches like you can't wait to run a marathon." 

Lawhiney stared at him for a moment. She had the distinct impression that Doctor Bell was paying her a compliment _right now_ because he knew a short time from now someone might tell him something that precluded ever saying anything nice about her again. 

"That's very kind of you. Speaking of running marathons, have you any idea how long it will be before you can take this cast off my leg?" 

"We'll see how the ultrasounds come out and see what Doctor Frisk has to say and, if its all good, we can maybe take the cast off." 

"Really? Wow!" Lawhiney squealed with glee. "That would be great doctor!" Lawhiney's eyes shone. For a few moments she didn't have to fake Gadget's normal perkiness. 

"Now, bear in mind that you've only been wearing that cast for about four weeks now. Normally we'd recommend six weeks for a break this bad but you seem to be a fast healer." 

"Oh, thank you Doctor. Thank you." 

"I have to go and see about arranging your ultrasound screening. While we're at it, we're going to have a look at little, uh, little…" He trailed off, his memory failing him. 

"Roche, Doctor. But, if you tell me your first name, I may just change my mind." 

"From what I remember of my playground days, I don't think he'd be any better off being called Romeo." 

"Romeo?" 

"Mum was a Shakespeare fan and thought I was going to be a girl, so when I turned up and she couldn't call me Juliet…" He shrugged as though tired of explaining it and made his way out the door. 

Lawhiney watched him go with a smile. "Romeo Bell, huh? I wonder why she didn't call him Julius if she had her heart set on Juliet for a girl." 

Geegaw was right beside her. "You're forgetting Shakespeare also wrote a play called Julius Cesar. She probably didn't want to name her son after someone who was hacked to death by half a dozen people." 

"As opposed to someone who drank poison and caused his lover to stab herself?" 

"Good point. Here's another one. You know you can't run with that cast on your leg." 

"True." 

"And Doctor Bell just told you he's not removing it before you see Doctor Frisk." 

"Yeah." 

"So you won't be able to run until after he's identified you as a fraud." 

Lawhiney tensed. "One more person to fool; that's all." She said. 

"No." Geegaw told her. "This is it." 

Lawhiney stared at him and shook her head. "I'm so close. Too close, I can't give up now. I won't give up now." 

"Lawhiney. Listen to reason. You won't fool Doctor Frisk. He knows Gadget's body by sight better than I do. He'll look at the notes that were sent to Doctor Bell and he will see they are in his handwriting and he will remember giving Gadget the treatments described in them and he knows where nearly every little scar is and he'll certainly know that person can't change their blood group overnight. There's nothing more you can do now. In a few moments Doctor Bell will walk back through that door and the only sensible thing you can do now is to confess everything to him. It's hardly even an act of contrition any more, it's practically saving face and bowing out with as much dignity as you have left." Geegaw looked at her sadly. 

"I'm not just sitting here waiting to be caught out." Lawhiney whispered tearfully. 

"I know it's painful but it's time to make good, Lawhiney. Think about it. You don't have very long." 

Geegaw, Lawhiney's spirit guide, drew back into the shadows in the corner of the room. The shadows seemed to get deeper and darker. Then Geegaw was gone and it seemed that some of the light had gone out of the room with him. 

143 

Lawhiney lay on the examining table, waiting for the dreaded Doctor Frisk to appear and expose her as a cheep fraud and impostor. She had been on the edge of freedom but she had wrongly judged _which_ edge_._ The discovery that _this_ edge marked the end of her borrowed time and not the start of some grand new liberty cut her deeply. Until now the only chains she had ever worn, in her whole life, had been golden. Very soon she would wear very different chains. The thought made her heart shrivel like a raisin in her chest. 

Lawhiney was so deep in her despair that she didn't notice that she was no longer alone in the examination room. She certainly hadn't heard the door open, assuming that it did. 

"Oh my, you poor unfortunate soul." A deep smooth voice that so reminded Lawhiney of her old friend Pierre washed over her. 

Hastily, Lawhiney blinked away her tears. "Hello Doctor Frisk. I'm afraid I'm feeling a little emotional right now…" 

The large grey rat that had joined her in the examination room doubled over and began to laugh. "Oh, I love it. You think I am Doctor Frisk. That is rich." 

"You're not?" Was this some trap intended to trip her up, Lawhiney wondered? If so, how could she get out of it now she had fallen in? 

"No." The rat looked down his nose at her. He was very well dressed and Lawhiney immediately decided he was a snob. "For your information Doctor Frisk is a Grey Mouse with a drooping right ear and a white moustache. He hasn't seen the real Gadget Hackwrench since May, when Fat Cat put a claw mark across her back. He had hopes the mark would disappear entirely, so he'll just congratulate himself when he can't find it on you, but he does have an axe to grind about Gadget only turning up for emergency treatment and never keeping her regular appointments." 

Lawhiney blinked. It didn't sound like the rat was gloating at her for being able to catch her out. It sounded more like he was helping her. 

"Laurel, Laurel. You really don't remember me, do you?" The rat's voice took on a gentle, sorrowful tone. He pouted. 

Lawhiney had blamed the rat's similarity to Pierre for the ghostly sense of recognition sending a chill up her back, but there was something unsettlingly familiar about him. Suspicion creased her face. 

"You're no doctor." She said in a low voice. 

"No doctor? My dear, I'm better than any mere doctor! I'm a full Professor! Why, in my glory days I had a whole faculty of doctors and undergraduates hopping at my every word, so you hardly have to worry about your modesty on my account." 

"Hospitals don't have faculties. What were you a professor of?" 

"Oh, mathematics, but that hardly matters now!" 

Lawhiney didn't bat an eye. She'd already guessed it wasn't medicine. The use of her real name was a bigger concern. 

"Why do you call me Laurel?" she demanded. 

"Because I speak French and hate hearing the language butchered for the sake of bad joke. Oh, and I know your real name because we've met many times since your little, ah-ha, _accident_." Lawhiney opened her mouth. The rat silenced her by holding up a paw and continued, anticipating her question. "You don't remember because I didn't think it was safe for you to remember our little tête-à-têtes. You might have mentioned them to that annoying Guide fellow." 

Lawhiney opened her mouth to say something then closed it again. The fur on her arms was standing on end and she had a terrible sense of foreboding. She wanted to ask how this strange professor could know about Geegaw but she dreaded the answer. Logically, there was only one way the rat could know and that was if he came from the same place. 

The thing was, when she looked at her visitor closely, Lawhiney knew just where her visitor came from and it was a place nothing like the one Geegaw called home. 

"Who are you?" she whispered, her voice unsteady. 

"Please allow me to introduce myself. I'm Professor Ratigan. I'm here to represent the opposing point of view." He smiled at her. "Make sure that other fellow plays fair and everything like that." 

"But you haven't been here at all, until now." 

Ratigan became defensive. "I'm afraid your guide wouldn't much care for me and I'm not the type to stand around all day letting him insult me. Besides which people don't like to have some gruesome spectre stand over them all the time, arguing over every little choice they make. Our management prefers a less intrusive approach." 

"I see. What do you want?" 

Ratigan seemed caught off guard. Then he smiled broadly. "Why, my dear! To help you, obviously." 

Lawhiney didn't believe him for an instant. "In exchange for what?" 

"Call it a loan. In exchange for certain favours from you to be named at a future point in time, I will arrange for your leg to be completely or, ha-ha, nearly completely healed. Certainly well enough for you to walk out of here without crutches." 

"Really?" 

"Naturally, or should I say unnaturally, the procedure would be undertaken entirely at your own risk and I'll have to ask for something in the way of _collateral_." He added the last detail as though it was inconsequential, with a distracted, off-hand tone of voice that Lawhiney didn't trust for an instant. 

"What collateral?" 

"Oh, nothing of much value, in the opinion of our assessors. Certainly nothing you've had much use for or spent any time worrying about over the last few years." With feigned interest, Ratigan studied his black walking stick's handle, which to Lawhiney's educated eye looked like a single pear-shaped gemstone. 

"Nothing I've had much use for?" She questioned. 

"Certainly." 

"And I can chose which particular thing it is that I haven't been using lately?" 

"No. Our choice, obviously." 

"Something of value to you then?" 

Ratigan looked Lawhiney up and down. "Not really, to be perfectly honest with you, but with any luck it should be enough to cover this small service." He said with irony in his voice. 

Lawhiney considered this. She didn't trust him but she wasn't about to turn down a chance of real freedom, so she said the only thing she could think of to buy time. "If you want me to make a deal with you, then you have to get me to trust you. Before I do that you're going to have to tell me something." 

Ratigan frowned. "Very well." 

"You claimed that we'd met before. I want to know where and when. I want to know why I don't remember and how you stopped me from remembering if that's really why I can't remember. 

"Look before you leap, very wise. Very wise." Ratigan lit a cigar in sharp contravention of the hospital's no smoking policy. He put it in his mouth and puffed while looking down at Lahwiney in every sense. "Your so-called guide, that annoying fellow that the holier-than-thou crowd have sent to tell you what to do, sent you a bad dream, correct?" 

Lawhiney shivered. She was already remembering her brief vision of the place where bad girls were sent. Fidget the bat, had smelt of brimstone. Ratigan stank of it. His cigar filled the whole room with it until it threatened to choke her. 

"Yes." She whispered. 

"I can visit your dreams too, Laurel, and I have done many times." 

"You enter my dreams?" Lawhiney could think of few things more odious. 

"Yes." 

She felt violated. "And then you fix it afterwards so I can't remember what happened?" 

"Yes. Often at your request as a matter of fact." 

Lawhiney shuddered at the possibilities. "But never without my permission?" 

"Oh yes, everything was consensual." Ratigan purred. 

Lawhiney glared at him with sullen eyes. Was he enjoying a joke at her expense or just playing on her insecurities? 

"Why show up like this now, if you prefer meeting me in my dreams?" 

"You're hardly likely to spend your last moments of freedom taking a nap. What do you say, Laurel? Do we have a deal, or did I waste my time coming here?" Ratigan held out a hand large enough to comfortably encircle Lawhiney's entire neck if he so wished. 

"Not so fast. You said you would fix my leg for certain favours." 

"I can't say what they would be at this point in time, I regret to say. Circumstances would dictate what form they took." 

"How many favours?" 

"Nine." 

"Three." 

"I didn't come here to haggle." 

"I don't know what the favours are yet. You might want me to do something unspeakable." 

"Five, then." 

"No. Three." 

"Why you-" Ratigan clenched his fists and ground his teeth. Finally he forced himself to chuckle and smile winningly at her. "You drive a hard bargain, Miss Ha- I mean Laurel." 

Lawhiney batted her eyelashes at him sweetly. "I need two minutes in private to think about it, though, or it's no deal." 

"Two minutes?" Ratigan said dubiously, massaging his temples. "What possible difference could two minutes make?" 

"To you? Not a bit, unless you're really, really _desperate_ to strike a deal. In which case maybe I'm not done haggling yet." 

"Very well, Laurel. You may have your two minutes." Ratigan said smoothly. "But when I return I want it firmly understood that our terms are binding." 

"Sure, we'll have a deal as soon as you get back. Unless my leg gets better in the meantime." 

"I'll hold you to that!" Ratigan promised. 

The lights flickered as though the hospital power supply was failing. Between one flicker and the next, Ratigan was gone. 

Lawhiney blinked at the space where Ratigan had stood. It seemed that no matter what trick a spirit used to disappear, all of them were coy about letting her pinpoint that one instant when they went from being in the room with her to not being in the room with her. 

With a shake of her head, Lawhiney forced herself to concentrate on what was important. "Nothing of value, my hairy hindquarters!" she muttered fiercely. "I'm not stupid!" 

Ratigan had lowered the number of favours he was asking too easily. Lawhiney's bet was that, when the time came for her to pay up, Ratigan was planning to ask for something he knew she either couldn't or wouldn't deliver in the hope that she would default. He had avoided saying just what he wanted as collateral and she hadn't pressed him but it had been easy to guess that he had been talking about her soul when he mentioned using something that she hadn't been paying much attention to lately. 

At first she had been surprised when Ratigan had turned out to be an easy to mark. She had thought that the people "downstairs" were slipping if this was the normal standard for their chosen representatives on earth. Then he'd made that oh-so-telling slip by nearly calling her Miss Hackwrench. That was something Lawhiney couldn't have missed in a million years and, after masquerading as Gadget for so long, she recognized the symptoms of someone who expected her to _ACT_ like Gadget Hackwrench just because she _LOOKED_ like Gadget Hackwrench. 

The conclusion was obvious. Ratigan had been around Gadget Hackwrench and he had been around her recently, at that. 

Lawhiney couldn't picture Gadget Hackwrench, Rescue Ranger and all around good girl, summoning up unclean spirits to do her bidding from her prison cell. She couldn't picture Gadget being sent downstairs when she crossed over, either. That left one possibility. 

Ratigan had sought out Gadget. 

Lawhiney shelved the implications of that to think about later. 

Ratigan claimed he had chosen to stay hidden from Geegaw until now. He had even taken the drastic step of blanking her memory of him visiting her in her dreams, if he was to be believed. Lawhiney considered this possible after what Geegaw himself had done to her dreams. She had been having nightmares since the crash, natural ones, or so she had thought. Natural or not, Lawhiney didn't expect too many restful nights if she ever recovered those memories. 

She shivered. 

If the "less intrusive" approach Ratigan's management preferred was invading her dreams, Lawhiney hated to think what they would consider as the hard sell. Perhaps she would find out later, after Ratigan saw the trick she was about to play on him. 

The rat would be furious because if it came right down to it, Lawhiney planned to turn down his deal. She had planned to turn it down all along; however badly she'd treated her soul in the last few years, it was worth more that patch up job on her leg that didn't even come with a guarantee. She had strung Ratigan along by pretending to deal with him, stalling for time in the hope she could come up with a way to use him that would get her out of the trap she had built for herself. 

Maybe she had. In any case, she had gotten everything she wanted from Ratigan, because all she had really wanted was for him to make her an offer, plus the next two minutes. 

Lawhiney put her hands together and, carefully choosing only words that she knew to be true, prayed for guidance. 

It was time for one last roll of the dice. 

144 

"Law? What is it, Law? Have you decided it's time?" 

Lawhiney opened her eyes to see Geegaw's face a hand's span from her own. His normally twinkling blue eyes showed only sympathy for her and Lawhiney had to struggle to suppress her glee. 

"Thank heaven you're here." she said sincerely. "I didn't know what to do. Another guide came and I thought I wasn't going to see you again!" 

"Another guide? Was he a tall, tan-furred mouse with a British accent?" 

"No, a huge rat, smelling of brimstone!" Lawhiney let her eyes grow large with horror. 

"What! That's no guide, that's a –" Geegaw caught himself before he used bad language. "I mean you're talking about somebody from the other side. Did he frighten you? Or force you to agree to anything? Hey, he didn't talk you into a deal of some kind did he?" 

Geegaw's alarm was only matched by his genuine concern for her. For a moment, Lawhiney's heart gave a twinge at the thought of what she was about to do. 

"Oh, no, of course not!" 

"Well, thank goodness for –" 

"At least, not yet!" 

Geegaw gulped. 

"But Geegaw, who is he? Why did he just show up all of a sudden?" Lawhiney asked. She was over doing the wide-eyed innocent routine now but he was too distracted to notice. 

"Lawhiney, you're supposed to have two advisors with you while you're finding your new path in life. One advisor is a Guide like me, who tries to show you what's right. The other, well, he's an Advocate. That's what they call themselves, I think. I never met one, myself. They used to call themselves guides too, but there was trouble over people not being sure which guide represented which side and now they call themselves Advocates." 

"Advocates?" 

"Sounds respectable, don't it? It's a sort of joke, actually. You see, they're Devil's Advocates." 

Under better circumstances, Lawhiney thought, it still wouldn't have been funny. 

"Anyway, his job is to point out alternatives to whatever course of action I suggest. Not to make you do evil – you, ah, don't need much encouragement in that regard – but to give you a clearly defined choice between right and wrong. You resolve the conflict between good and evil for yourself, in lots of little ways, day by day. When you're, um, done making choices, you know exactly why you're on one side or the other and that you've arrived there by your own choice. At least, that's the theory." 

"Really?" Lawhiney said dryly. 

"Of course, in practice I think they get a bounty or something for every soul they recruit." 

"Ah." That made sense. "Is it the same bounty on every soul?" 

"I wouldn't know for sure but there are some people the other side must be pretty keen to get their hands on and others they probably take for granted." There was no denying that Geegaw's eyes looked pointedly to Lawhiney when he mentioned the second group. 

"Yes, I can imagine." Lawhiney remembered her ideas about where Ratigan had been while he was supposed to be turning her to the dark side. Her heart gave another twinge of remorse, a stronger one this time. Gadget might be in far deeper danger than even Geegaw believed. She pushed the thought away. 

"Geegaw," Lawhiney said, "he was saying all sorts of horrible things about what it's like in prison but he says I don't have to go." 

Geegaw looked at her in dismay. "He does? Ah, well, I wouldn't take everything he says too seriously. It's not as if he's qualified to tell the gospel truth, you know." 

Lawhiney put on her best innocent, Gadget-like expression. "He's gone to get something for me to sign and then he'll be straight back to fix my leg so I can run away." 

"Oh really?" Geegaw's voice arched like an alley cat's back. 

"He's not even asking for anything important in return. All he asked was that I do him a couple of favours or that I let him take some little keepsake of mine if I'm not up to doing them." Lawhiney kept her voice at her most trusting. 

"Did he mention what little keepsake he had in mind exactly?" 

"No, but he did say that he would make sure it was something I'd never thought much about." 

"I bet he did!" Geegaw growled. 

"I told him it was a deal, unless my leg was better by the time he got back!" 

For the first time since the day he died, Geegaw swore. 

145 

Geegaw ground his teeth. 

Lawhiney had really done it this time. He blamed himself. He should have stayed and continued to work on her but he had not wanted to risk making her hysterical. Instead he had left her to stew and now he wasn't sure he could see a way out for either of them. 

Advocates were notorious for sticking to the very letter of their agreements. The "devil" was in the detail of how they phrased them. If it came right down to it, Geegaw knew he would offer to go in Lawhiney's place. It wasn't allowed normally but perhaps he could swing it since he wasn't officially a full guide yet. He'd give it his best shot, anyway. 

Lawhiney clearly had no idea what she had signed up to. She was looking up at him with big eyes like a little girl who was convinced she had been especially clever and that the mess she had made didn't matter because here was a grown up to clear it up. He sighed deeply and broke the news to her. 

"You really got yourself into it this time, Kiddo. Law, no matter how nicely or discretely they word it, an Advocate only strikes a deal in exchange for one thing: You." 

Lawhiney's mouth became a perfect "O" of horror. 

Geegaw ran the situation through his head one more time. He couldn't think of anything. "How long have we got before he shows up to finalise the deal?" 

"He said he'd just be a couple of minutes. That was a minute ago." 

Geegaw glanced at the clock on the wall. Right. Assuming they had a full sixty seconds and counting that left him… not many options at all, in fact. He couldn't even get the people in the scheduling department to drop something heavy on Lawhiney's head and close her account before this doom-to-doom salesman turned up. If he did that Lawhiney be going downstairs anyway. 

Lawhiney was no help. She was just sitting there, worriedly looking up at him when she wasn't glancing at her injured leg as though it were suddenly itching or something. 

Wait. There was something. "Law, what exactly was it you told him? That it was a deal? That it was a done deal the moment your leg was better? Try to remember. It's important." 

"I said that we'd have a deal as soon as he got back. Unless my leg got better in the meantime." 

"Ah-ha!" Geegaw was triumphant. All he had to do was heal Lawhiney's leg before Ratigan got back and there would be no deal. Lawhiney would be safe and free. 

Free to run straight out the door and into the wide blue yonder, never to be seen again as far as Gadget and the Rescue Rangers were concerned. 

Geegaw looked straight into Lawhiney's eyes and for one terrible moment glimpsed something looking back at him that was every bit as hard and cunning as Gadget was gentle and brilliant. Then it was gone and she was blinking at him with a bewildered look on her face. Geegaw stared at her, frozen with indecision. 

Yes, Lawhiney was a smart, hardened sinner. The question was: How sharp was she? Would she truly dare to try and play one side off against the other? If she was, could there be any hope for her, no matter what he did? 

It was ridiculous. She was barely into her twenties. She couldn't have the nerve to do such a thing. Even if she did she wouldn't _use_ him like this. But that, he realised, was precisely what everyone she used told themselves. 

"Is there any hope, Geegaw, or am I really done for this time?" 

"Just about well-done for, I'd say." He quipped in a weak voice. The sudden fear he saw in her eyes was genuine, he was sure of it. 

Yes, Lawhiney was sharp, he thought, and hard and she probably was playing him to get on to his good side. That was what he had glimpsed in her eyes. She was bad. He had already known that. It didn't mean she had planned this to force him into curing her leg. Walking away now would be no better than walking away from her in the first place would have been. 

She was bad and it was his job to fix that but he wouldn't get the chance if he didn't act quickly. He glanced at the clock. Twenty seconds remaining. 

Geegaw took what, to an observer, passed for a deep breath. "Okay, kid. I don't know what was in your mind when you pulled this stunt but I'm going to try and pull your, uh, fat out of the fire." 

"Thank you, Geegaw." Lawhiney whispered. 

"Thank me later. By confessing." Geegaw growled. 

Fifteen seconds on the clock. 

Geegaw buried each hand in the opposing sleeve of his robe. Then he bowed his head deeply until every trace of his face was lost in the darkness and folds of the robe's hood. The shadows around him seemed to grow and the colours seemed to darken. It was as though Geegaw was standing in another room entirely and the lights in that room were on a dimmer switch that someone was turning down. 

Lawhiney began breathing quickly as though she would have to run for her life at any moment. There was something terrible about what she was watching. It was as if Geegaw was having all the light sucked out of him. 

With a serpentine movement Geegaw unfolded his arms and left his paws reaching straight up and his sleeves hanging around his elbows. With one hand, he opened his robes from his neck to his waist then plunged first one paw, then the other, into the darkness inside. 

Lawhiney took one light into the yawning chasm where his chest should have been and felt a sickening lurch of vertigo. A terrible sound pounded in her ears like a gale tearing across a mountaintop. She began to shake with terror and covered her eyes with her paws. If these were the powers of good, how awful were the powers that opposed them? 

Unseen by Lawhiney, Geegaw withdrew his paws, a writhing ball of yellow light barely caged by his now skeletal fingers. His robes were soot black tatters now. Of his body, only his hands could be seen and they were nothing but bone lit by the angry dancing flame threatening to escape his grasp. He pressed his palms together with his full strength, forcing them into a prayer position just below the point where his breastbone should have been and the light melted into his paws until they glowed like glass filled with summer sunlight. 

With five seconds remaining on the clock, Geegaw reached out and placed his paws on Lawhiney's injured leg. At first his paws rested on the outside of the cast, then they sank into it like slipping into warm water. Geegaw touched Lawhiney for the first and only time, his fingers lightly but firmly pressing into her flesh. 

Lawhiney felt the touch immediately. She had felt nothing but plaster touching that part of her body for weeks and now, impossibly, someone was massaging her leg on the inside of the cast. Shocked she snatched her paws away from her eyes and stared at what he was doing. His hands were buried up to their wrists in her leg. 

Warmth began to flow into her body from where Geegaw was touching her. Then she was suddenly aware of his fingers moving inside her flesh, manipulating the bone without causing her the slightest pain. She felt the bone vibrate as it became whole again. She gasped… and it was over. 

Abruptly Geegaw's hands were back in his sleeves. The little light that was left in them seemed to flow back into the rest of his body. His robes returned to their old colour and where there had been deep shadows Lawhiney could see right through him to the wall behind him. He lifted his head and she could just make out his face but so faintly that it alarmed her. 

Geegaw was fading away. 

"I'm tired, kiddo." He said weakly. "I want to stay and help you kick that snake-oil salesman's tail straight back to where he came from but I don't think I'm going to be able to. Can I count on you not turn round and cut another deal with him for something else? Even if it's something tempting?" 

"Sure, Geegaw." Lawhiney said automatically. 

"You swear it, now, on little Roche. I know that's an oath you'll keep." 

Lawhiney blinked and placed on paw on her belly. "I swear. I won't make a deal with anyone from the other side while you're gone." 

"I was hoping for something that would hold a little longer than that. Perhaps it would be better if I never came back." Geegaw rasped. 

"Don't say that." Lawhiney whined in a genuine pout. "I – " she winced " – guess I need you." 

Geegaw smiled, or Lawhiney thought he did. He was nothing more than a wisp now, like a reflection in a pane of glass when the light is poor. Lawhiney smiled back to please him and realised she was seeing the moment that she had wanted to see since the first time Geegaw had disappeared on her. The moment a spirit faded into nothing. 

Her smile collapsed. 

It was horrible. There was one brief, wrenching moment when her eyes stopped looking at his face and locked onto the wall behind him because there wasn't enough left Geegaw left for them to focus on. It was a little like watching someone die. One moment they were there and the next they weren't. 

Seeing it for the first time, Lawhiney suddenly wondered how much of Geegaw she had ever seen with her eyes and how much of him she had seen with her mind. The image of his smile had faded from her mind's eye only after her real eyes had overruled it two to one. She was suddenly aware that she had been alone in a strange hospital room talking to people who, perhaps, were never there. Even as she tried to shake the thought off her eyes took in the detail of the wall she was staring at, including the wall clock that had been behind Geegaw. Ratigan was twenty seconds late. 

Doubt struck deep into her heart. 

For a moment she was nothing but a skeleton wrapped in warm meat, walking around until the clockwork of her DNA ran down and let her return to dust like every other thing that crept or crawled across the Earth. There was no God to judge her and no Hell awaiting her, just hoards of squeaking, squawking, randomly twitching things that pretended such things existed for fear of the darkness that waited if the alternative was true. 

All in all, it was a relief when Ratigan stepped out of the shadows and blew into her ear. 

Lawhiney cursed magnificently. 

"I do love to hear a woman with an educated tongue talk freely on a subject close to her heart." Ratigan said and cocked an ear as though he was listening to a fine piece of music. 

Lawhiney glared at him and looked fit to explode but she closed her mouth with an audible snap. Reigning in her temper, she soon found reason to shrug off her scare with a nasty little chuckle at Ratigan's expense. 

"Guess what?" She smirked at him. 

"I have no time for guessing games. Later perhaps, after we conclude our business dealings." 

"You remember what I said when you left?" 

"That we'd have a deal as soon as I got back. And I said I'd hold you to it, so no trying to wriggle out of it Miss – I mean, Laurel." 

"I said," Lawhiney teased in a singsong voice, "that we'd have a deal as soon as you got back, unless my leg got better in the meantime." She chuckled darkly. 

Ratigan lifted his right eyebrow. 

Still smiling, Lawhiney swung her legs off the examination table and stood up without the aid of crutches. "Thank you for coming," she said sweetly, "but your services are no longer required." 

Ratigan's face smile became a frozen grimace. His pupils shrank to pin points. 

"What's this?" he growled in a voice as rough as gravel. 

"I should think it's fairly obvious. My leg is better. Therefore we don't have a deal." 

"You dare do this to _ME_?" his voice rose to a roar. 

"Hey, it's not my fault you allowed the competition to undercut you. I bet that's the sort of thing that could do real damage to your reputation if it got about. Perhaps it would be best if – " 

"_SILENCE!_" Ratigan screamed at her. "You think you can do something like this and then turn around and use it to blackmail ME?" 

Lawhiney watched with rapt fascination. Ratigan's every word and gesture reminded her of herself. 

"Rest assured, Laurel, there will be a reckoning for this!" Ratigan smacked the end of his walking stick against the floor as hard as he could, making a sharp crack. The sound blended with the noise of the overhead light bulb breaking, plunging the room into darkness. 

Lawhiney was never sure how she knew for certain but she didn't have the slightest doubt that, for better or for worse, Ratigan had left her alone in the dark. 

"Probably hoping that I'll fall over and break my leg again, stumbling around in the dark." She grumbled. 

Warily she began picking her way through the darkness to the door. 

She hadn't got very far when she fell over her now unneeded and forgotten wheelchair. With her leg still in the ridged cast, Lawhiney couldn't balance properly and she found herself pitched onto the back of the wheelchair, it's wheels moving with her as she tried to save herself by putting more of her weight on to it. In a heartbeat her feet were kicking in the air and her face was pressed into the wheelchair's seat as Lawhiney and the chair spun across the room. With a crash she ran into the door and collapsed in a heap. 

The chair rolled back and Lawhiney slid off the chair and onto the floor as it did so. Not a great start to a graceful disappearing act. 

Lying on the floor, Lawhiney reached up and tweaked the door open a crack to check for friends (Gadget's) and other enemies. She wanted nothing more than to be out of the hospital and as far away from Doctor Frisk and the Rescue Rangers as she possibly could be. 

There was just one problem with that. 

Okay, actually there were hundreds of problems but the _first_ one was that her leg was still trapped in a cast, a cast that prevented her from walking more than about five paces before falling over, and the only other way out of the room was to use the wheelchair. She couldn't think of a way to remove the cast without hitting it with something heavy which could well break her leg all over again. The only ready way out was to wait for Doctor Bell to return with the dreadful Doctor Frisk in tow and get him to cut the cast off. 

She scowled. 

Ratigan had foreseen this, she realised. He had planned to heal her leg and wait for her at the prison, secure in the knowledge that if she had made one bargain with him she would be ready to make another. And if that hadn't worked he would have still had the option of trying to think up three things that were beneath even her to ask as favours. 

The only real alternative was to try and bluff it out with Gadget's regular doctor, to hope he was too blind or too senile to beat her by playing spot the difference using her body and a map of Gadget's old scars. Lawhiney knew she was good but this was coming at a time when both Chip and Doctor Bell were already suspicious. It wasn't as though she could pray for divine intervention to get her through. She could imagine what the response would sound like, coming from Geegaw's lips, all too clearly. 

This would be a _challenge_. 

146 

Gadget lay on her bunk. 

Her own mattress was less parasite infested than Bubbles's simply because no one had been sleeping in that bunk for nearly three weeks now. It was just as hard, though. 

She was looking up at the underside of Bubbles's mattress through the crisscross of rubber bands that acted as springs when she heard the polite, gentlemanly cough from the other side of the bars. Somehow she knew who it was without looking. The way she hadn't heard anyone approach and he was just suddenly there, unannounced, gave it away. 

"Ratigan." Gadget said in a low voice. It wasn't an inquiry. She was simply informing the person who had coughed of her conclusions about their identity. 

"I was beginning to fear you might have forgotten me. I haven't seen you for, oh, it must be five or six days at least." Ratigan's elegant voice soothed at her from outside the cell. 

Gadget refused to look at him. She didn't believe he was real. "In the electroshock therapy room. That was the last time I saw you." 

"I'm sorry? What were you doing in the electroshock room? Surely they didn't…?" He let the sentence hang unfinished until she had to look at him, if only to make sure he was still there. "They did?" he breathed in a horrified whisper. "No! Surely it can't be? Although, they do use electroshock therapy to cure depression and you _do_ seem much happier then when we last spoke…" 

"You know perfectly well what happened and why. I saw you in the electroshock room, gloating, and standing behind Doctor Schadenfreude when he asked me about our conversations." 

"That's ridiculous, I was at a conference… Wait a moment. Do you mean Doctor Schadenfreude _knows_ about our conversations? That you **broke** your promise and told him?" Ratigan glared accusingly at her. His voice had risen to a throaty growl. 

Surely Bubbles and the other inmates could hear him now? Assuming he was real, not a hallucination, of course. If he were a figment of her imagination then surely banishing him would only take an act of will. Gadget tried to make him disappear or at least become less solid looking by squinting at him in a variety of different ways but no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't see through him… in any sense. 

"I didn't tell him." Gadget said eventually. She wanted to wake Bubbles up and get independent conformation of the seven-inch tall grey rat wearing a tuxedo just outside their cell but from past experience taking her eyes of Ratigan for even an instant would be all it took for him to disappear again. 

"If I had, I doubt I would have ended up in the electroshock room." 

"Did they really shock you? That charlatan, I heard they've suspended him. My poor, poor Gadget! I hope they throw the book at him." 

Ratigan was like an old human lady cooing over some treasured lapdog and the hot flash of wounded pride Gadget suddenly felt explained why every lapdog she had ever known had been a nasty, vindictive creature filled with hate and loathing for all living things. 

"I only caught a tiny shock compared to what might have happened if the warden hadn't intervened. I saw you in the electroshock room." 

"Really? Well, with all that electricity going through you I'm surprised you didn't see the Easter Bunny and all his little helpers." 

"It was before they gave me the shock." 

"Were you drugged?" the question was polite, almost incidental. It shook Gadget to her core. 

"Yes. Heavily." She admitted. 

"There you are then, that explains it." Ratigan tried to dismiss the issue. 

"Really? But I saw you clear as anything, standing behind Doctor Schadenfreude the day before he increased my medication…" 

"I haven't been in the prison for ages, my business hasn't allowed it. You know how it is when you're working on a big project, so many little details to take care of. I've been running around all over the place trying to get everything in position for my grand design." he chuckled until a sudden thought struck him. "My dear Gadget, do you think I'm some sort of hallucination?" 

"I could easily wake up Bubbles and check." Gadget's eyes strayed briefly to Bubbles's tail, which hung from the top bunk and twitched like a snake. 

"I don't think she'd thank you. Besides, how would you phrase the question? ""Bubbles, can you see the handsome rat who's come to visit me in the night or am I seeing things that aren't there again?"" You're going to have a hard enough time convincing her that you aren't crazy as it is." Ratigan advised her. 

"Perhaps I should just wake her up and introduce you." 

"Be a bit embarrassing if you really are imagining me. ""Bubbles, allow me to introduce Professor Ratigan. Professor – what's that Bubbles? There's no one there?"" From what I gather, she already thinks you're half insane." 

"I'll have to introduce you sooner or later, after all, you can hardly expect to go on visiting me in secret now I'm in here. There's no privacy, not even for the smallest things." Gadget's eyes strayed from Ratigan a second time, this time to the toilet. 

"Must be embarrassing when someone walks past the cell." Ratigan agreed. "But I'll pick my moments carefully. With luck, I should be able to carry on visiting you the whole time you're here. Have you made any progress on reducing the amount of that time, by the way? I'm willing to visit you for the foreseeable future but fifteen years _is_ stretching it." 

Gadget nearly sat bolt upright. "I sent a letter this morning. I'd almost forgotten. It'll take a couple of days to get there but there's no reason that I shouldn't be free by Friday." 

"You can have the weekend at home." Ratigan pointed out. "That'll be nice." 

"Yes." Gadget agreed absentmindedly. 

"I heard an interesting rumour on my way up here… I was just eavesdropping conversations and someone who was on the way down happened to say something about you and a certain Roxie having an argument. Something about you not wanting your ears pierced?" 

"Roxie's a white mouse. She's here because her boyfriend left her with a bag and she didn't know what was in it. Probably shouldn't have been convicted any more than I should." 

"So the two of you are friends?" Ratigan nodded as though filling in the blank space with the obvious answer. 

"No. She tried to slice off half my ear because Haggs told her to and I almost cut her throat with her own knife in return." Gadget felt oddly safe telling Ratigan this because she still strongly suspected that he was a hallucination and that meant that telling him was like whispering it to herself. 

Ratigan gaped at her and then smothered something that Gadget strongly suspected was a laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry." Ratigan said when he saw her glare. "It's just that is so priceless. The only other innocent person in Shrankshaw prison and you two end up nearly killing each other. That is just so… What is the word I'm looking for?" 

"Ironic." Gadget supplied. 

"Yes, yes, that's it. Ironic. I always thought that irony was nature's way of letting you know that justice had caught up with you without the aid of a policeman but in your case, of course, I suppose that would be injustice, don't you think?" 

"Justice." For the first time, Gadget spoke the word aloud and there was bitterness in her voice. "Bubbles told me a little story about what justice feels like when it happens to you and I'll tell you a funny thing. It feels exactly like injustice; I know, because she told me how her first time in prison felt and that's just how all this feels for me." 

"Justice and injustice feel the same?" Ratigan seemed intrigued. 

"I'm starting to believe that no one can do justice in this world. No detective, no judge and no Rescue Ranger. Perhaps justice is something only God can deliver and the rest of us just go about hurting each other for different reasons and sometimes those reasons are that we don't like it when people don't play by the rules we made up even when we never asked them if they liked those rules or were willing to keep them." 

"Why Gadget, I do believe you're beginning to get the glory." Ratigan's voice dripped disapproval. 

"Get the glory?" 

"It's what convicts call it when someone turns to religion to get themselves through the hard times. Sad really, some poor devil finds themselves in a dark place for the best years of their life so they turn to superstition for the only source of comfort and sympathy they have left… the world's favourite imaginary friend. Of course, it erodes the logical faculty terribly. All those contradictions in the good book you have to turn a blind eye to if you're going to be accepted into the harp and halo club. All those things that fly in the face of hard scientific fact that you have to believe if you want to stay out of Aitch-E-double-hockey-sticks." 

"I only meant that justice might be something that people cannot create for themselves. Perhaps all our attempts to make justice amount to nothing more than playing God and we can't tilt the scales of justice one way or the other, let alone balance them, because we're all being weighed on the scales together. It could be that justice has to come from above… or it could be that the universe is an inherently just place and we don't realise it simply because we can't see how it all works out in the end." 

"A difficult theory to test, unless you're God. Let me suggest a simpler one: Perhaps, if justice and injustice feel the same, they are one and the same thing." Ratigan suggested gently. 

There was a silence. 

"I don't believe that." Gadget said. 

"Perhaps justice is like the Tooth Fairy or the Monster Who Lives Under the Bed… Something we believe in when we're small but learn is just in the imagination when we grow older." 

"Then I've wasted a great deal of my life. I suppose it would also mean that a lot of the things I've done that I thought would make my father proud weren't much more than bullying people, albeit with good intentions." 

Ratigan allowed himself a rueful chuckle. "You know, the road that's paved with good intentions doesn't lead to Singapore or Zanzibar. It leads to some whole other place entirely." 

"You're saying I'm no different from anyone else in here. I've been hearing that a lot lately." 

"You're all prison inmates. Most of you believe you don't deserve to be in here. You have those two things in common with almost everyone else in here. Perhaps you _do_ have other things in common as well." 

"I'm willing to accept that now." 

"Good girl. One day, you'll see that as a vital step on the path to personal growth." 

"I already do." 

"So then, no justice, just us. Prisoners, guards and Rescue Rangers, all the same under the fur, all of us shuffling our way along the mortal coil until we reach the end and, if there is no justice, what other unwanted baggage are we carrying that might be weighing us down when we need our wings most?" 

Ratigan had thought long on that metaphor. While the hard work showed, he was proud of it because he knew Gadget the pilot would respond to the image of flight. 

"If there's no justice, most of our ideas about good and evil are wrong. Much of what we do to be good is done because we fear to be evil. Much of what we say is evil is behaviour we either associate with punishment because we have been punished for similar behaviour in our lives, or is behaviour that we ourselves wish to engage in but fear to for various reasons and therefore wish to punish others for indulging in." 

"And why would we wish to punish people for doing something we've never done, or never been punished for?" Ratigan was discretely checking a gold pocket watch. Gadget could hear it ticking. A clockwork pocket watch small enough to be worn by a rat was a rarity. As a mechanical conundrum it immediately caught Gadget's interest. 

"Because of the feelings such behaviour arouse in us. That would be why the crimes considered most serious are the ones attached to the deepest, most primal emotions." 

"Such as?" 

Gadget refused to answer the question because she didn't like where it would lead her. Instead she threw out something that she had thought but not spoken aloud, as a distraction, in the hope that Ratigan wouldn't press the question and make her say something she wasn't ready to say yet. "I suppose it might also be because someone likes the idea of being the person who inflicts the punishment, as opposed to the one receiving the punishment." 

"Interesting concept." Ratigan accepted the compromise as if it had passed over his head entirely. "What punishments did you receive as a small girl?" 

Gadget's ears lowered and her cheeks blushed prettily. "None of your business." 

"Perhaps a more interesting question would be: What did you receive them for?" Ratigan tried to force Gadget into another concession. He was unsuccessful. 

"All the usual things I guess. Skipping the chores I didn't like. Using stuff around the house for my inventions without asking first. Launching homemade rockets that crash-landed on our neighbour's home was a big one." 

Gadget seemed be as casual about launching an unprovoked missile strike on people who lived next door as she was about skipping the washing up occasionally. Ratigan remembered what she had done to him when he invaded her dreams reminded himself just how dangerous the pretty little package in front of him could be. 

"Were you ever punished for something you didn't do?" 

"I don't remember. If I was, it was never in a way that Dad couldn't make up to me, I guess. He was wonderful. I miss him. I wish I could see him." Gadget turned her eyes to the face of the large grey rat in the evening suit who stood on just the other side of the bars. 

Ratigan met her gaze and mentally filled in the blank she had left him: I wish I could see my dad instead of you. The ruthless urge to retaliate took hold of him. "Why did you think you were better than Bubbles, by the way? Oh, I heard about your little moment of doubt and pain." 

Gadget winced. She didn't reply until it became clear that Ratigan was not going to speak again until she did. "I was brought up to think that law abiding people are better than criminals. I'm honest. Bubbles is a criminal. Even if she is trying to help me." 

"So even though you're grateful to someone for doing something nice for you, you're still better than her?" Ratigan's voice was smooth. 

"I hadn't thought it through clearly. I've already told Bubbles that I'm not better than her." 

"You've told her that, but do you believe it? That Gadget Hackwrench, Geegaw Hackwrench's daughter, is no better than a common criminal who lies, cheats and steals." 

Gadget hesitated. "That's what I said, isn't it?" 

The half-second pause said far more than the answer itself. 

"Well, a common criminal who lies, at any rate." Ratigan smiled. 

A flash of anger ran through Gadget. For a fleeting moment she didn't care if Ratigan disappeared and didn't come back, even if it meant that no one ever called her by her own name again. Without thinking she snatched the peacefully twitching end of Bubbles's tail and pulled hard. 

Bubbles yelped. 

"Bubbles?" Gadget demanded in a loud voice. "Do you see a great big male sewer rat, a little like the phantom of the opera without a mask, standing just out side our cell?" 

A brief silence from the top bunk was followed by a carefully worded reply, delivered in a deliberately balanced tone. "Uh, Red? That would be Officer Haggs." 

There was a sharp intake of breath from Gadget and she turned over to look into the corridor properly. 

Sure enough, there stood Officer Haggs in just the place where Professor Ratigan had knelt to whisper into Gadget's ear as she lay in her bunk. 

For the briefest instant she was gripped by the idea that Ratigan and Haggs were the same person, but she when she looked again she knew it wasn't so. Ratigan's malice – and it was malice, Gadget was now certain – was driven by a smooth and subtle intelligence that took every pain to conceal its intentions until they could be as devastating as possible. Officer Haggs, by contrast, was a bash, blustering bully who wanted the world to see her hurt and degrade her victims; who hated to hide anything and only did so to protect her own tail from her superiors. 

Haggs squared her shoulders and glowered at the occupants of the cell. Her right paw held a nightstick that was nothing more than a bolt painted black. Slowly, with menace, Haggs raised the weapon as if to strike Gadget through the bars. As Gadget shrank back, Haggs smiled and began tapping the nightstick against the palm of her hand. 

Gadget squeaked with dismay. 

147 

It was dark now; lights out had been a couple of hours before. 

Gadget was face down on her cot, the weight of her upper body supported by her elbows. Her face turned to track the movements of the large rat. 

First Haggs reached into a pocket and brought out a shiny key that wasn't on a large steel ring like most of the prison keys Gadget had seen during her stay. Haggs opened the cell door and the mechanical side of Gadget, which was never very far away, wondered if the key was a master key that could open any door in the prison or if it worked for their cell door alone. If Haggs had come equipped with a key especially for their cell then perhaps she had intended to come in all along. If so, Gadget could not be solely blamed for whatever happened next, only for making it worse. 

Officer Haggs entered the cell without a word. Her head nearly scraped the ceiling. 

Gadget gulped. 

Haggs was as large as either of the rats Gadget had dealt with when Roxie had attacked her but Haggs carried less fat and more muscle and, from experience, Gadget knew that Haggs was stronger and quicker. When Gadget had tried to escape from being electro-shocked she hadn't even seen the blow Haggs had used to stop her. Somewhere under Gadget's fur, that old bruise still ached. 

"I have reason to believe one or both of you are concealing contraband." Haggs' voice wasn't far from a snarl but, then again, it never was. 

Gadget noted that the officer hadn't fetched a second guard as back up in case they turned violent. It struck her at once as being encouraging and frightening. They had Haggs outnumbered, but a second guard would also be a witness to whatever Haggs was planning… 

"Oh, +#~*&!" Bubbles mumbled. 

"Come here." Haggs ordered. 

Bubbles climbed down from the top bunk first. Gadget watched as her friend took one step forward, which was all it took to obey Haggs' instruction because the cell was so small. 

"You know the drill." Haggs said sternly. "Up against the wall, hands and feet spread wide." She glared at Gadget. "You too, wiseacre." 

Gadget slowly climbed out of bed. Like Bubbles, she had stripped down to her prison issue T-shirt and panties shortly after lights out and although Haggs had already seen her naked, Gadget felt oddly exposed and vulnerable. 

"You aren't supposed to be here." Bubbles said. "I thought you got transferred or something." 

"The Warden moved me to the special wing; thinks I need to broaden experience. If she ever comes through these doors as a prisoner I'll give her a broad experience all right. But poor Officer Simmons has a sick child and out of the charity of my heart I've agreed to do her shift for her, so you have the pleasure of my company all night." Haggs chuckled to herself. 

"Pleasure?" Bubbles exclaimed. 

"Oh yes, I was forgetting. The pleasure will be _all_ mine…" With that, Haggs gripped Bubbles firmly by the ear and pushed her face into the cell wall. 

Haggs faced Gadget. "You insulted me to my face. It's been quite a while since anyone did that. Especially a prisoner." 

"I – I'm sorry." She almost whispered. 

Haggs smiled at the sign of weakness. "Sorry isn't even half what you'll be when I'm finished with you. Up against the wall. I'll start with you." 

Gadget shivered at the white rat's tone. She was certain the fur on her arms and legs was standing on end as she moved to obey. She put first one paw then the other against the cell wall, which felt rough and dirty under her palms. Uncertain what would happen next, she waited there. Haggs stood directly behind Gadget, saying nothing for the moment, though Gadget could hear her breathing. The moment stretched out, taut and long, and Gadget felt a curious prickling sensation crawling up her back like a spider. She expected Haggs to hit her without warning at any moment. 

"Spread your arms and legs wider. Feet further away from the wall." Haggs ordered in a restrained tone. 

Gadget looked over at Bubbles and confirmed that their poses were identical, hands and feet spread equally. Her eyes met Bubbles's and saw the silent message buried in them: Don't provoke Haggs any further. 

Without complaint she widened the distance between hands, feet and wall. 

"**WIDER!**" Haggs lashed out to kick Gadget's feet further apart, so that her face fell against the wall. The old bruise flared with pain. 

"Wider!" Haggs growled a second time. 

Gadget, her face still pressed against the dirty wall and feeling helplessly off balance, struggled to comply. 

Then she felt Haggs' hands on her. 

Firmly the hands patted and stroked in the standard, predictable pattern of a normal frisk. Gadget had seen people receive this treatment many times; she had become so used to it that she didn't notice it sometimes and had often considered reluctance to allow such a search to be a sign of guilt. Now she was seeing it in a different light. 

The hands finished the normal search pattern and, to Gadget's alarm, continued. They were rougher and straying into territory Gadget was uncomfortable with. She opened her mouth to ask Haggs to stop but was silenced by another, unexpected, contact. Bubbles had snuck her paw over to Gadget's paw and gently taken hold to comfort her. Looking to her cellmate's face, Gadget saw nothing but sympathy and understanding and, again, the plea for restraint. 

Gadget squeezed her eyes shut, tried to keep the tears away as the search went on. Haggs had abandoned all pretence of this being a normal search and was doing everything she could to make her victim squirm with humiliation. Gadget concentrated on the sensation of her friend's hand touching hers and tried to shut out all feelings. 

"No lock-pick this time. Never mind. I still owe you a medical search, from that." Haggs tone was filled with triumphant malice. 

"You can't do that to her!" Bubbles gasped. 

"Medical search?" Gadget was suddenly terrified. Things too personal to speak of passed through her mind. 

"I can do what I want." Sneered Haggs. 

"You know that kind of search has to be recorded and witnessed by another officer. Everyone knows you've got it in for Red and you'll never be able to justify it. Remember, the Warden's got her eye on you!" 

Gadget swallowed her fear and offered up a silent prayer of thanks for whatever providence had sent her Bubbles. 

Haggs glared at Bubbles silently, beside herself with anger, knowing that the convict was right. Then she made an abrupt decision. "Then we'll just have to find something to justify it, won't we? I know you convicts; you've always got something to hide." 

With that, Haggs began to tear the cell apart. She pulled the pillows apart and threw the blankets to the ground. Failing to find anything, she overturned Bubbles' mattress and lashed at it with her claws. It opened four narrow slits in the tatty, bug infested bedding and Haggs plunged her hand into holes, her arm disappearing up to the shoulder. She tore out cotton padding as she searched for contraband. She found none, but when she pulled out her arm there was a large, ugly tick clinging to her arm. 

"Gah!" Haggs exclaimed in disgust as she crushed it instinctively. 

Bubbles gave a short laugh, which she cut off abruptly. Gadget winced at the death of an unpleasant but blameless insect. 

Haggs slowly raised her face from the blood on her arm and turned it to Bubbles with a dreadful fury. Gadget felt Bubbles' hand go tight about her own. 

Haggs crossed the tiny room in one stride and struck Bubbles repeatedly on the back of the legs with her nightstick. Bubbles cried out and fell to her knees. 

"Stop it!" cried Gadget. 

Haggs grabbed Gadget by the back of her prison issue T-shirt. She twisted the fabric around her fist until the material drew tight around Gadget's throat. "I haven't forgotten you, honey. You'll get your turn." 

Gadget struggled briefly but Haggs responded by pulling the T-shirt about until, with repeated ripping sounds, the fabric gave way. Letting the ruined shirt drop around Gadget's waist, Haggs left her exposed and vulnerable and returned to searching the cell. 

Gadget remained against the wall. She was paralysed with shock and shame. Worst of all, she felt helpless. Haggs was a guard and represented law and order, much as Gadget had once done. Still, as Gadget looked down at her tattered clothing she wished Roxie's knife was back in her hand – and that thought froze her heart. 

The knife. 

Gadget had been afraid to trust anyone else with the blade and had hidden it between the bed frame and the wall at the foot of her bunk, with a little cotton wool padding from her pillow to hold it in place. 

Dear Lord. If Haggs found that knife with a little of Roxie's dried blood still on the blade, there would be no stopping her and no escape from all she had threatened, either. 

Every fibre of Gadget's body tensed. 

Could she take Haggs in the tiny confines of the cell, even if Bubbles helped? Gadget didn't know. There was no element of surprise. Haggs had a club and, if it became necessary to fight her, she would probably be holding the knife as well. Gadget doubted Haggs would hesitate to use it. Even if they won, what good would it do them? Haggs had the key to the cell door and presumably keys to other doors, on her person, but there was little chance of escape. It was unlikely the main gate was unguarded, or that Haggs would have a key for it, or even that they could reach it before another guard or a fellow prisoner raised the alarm. 

With every heartbeat Gadget's nerves were stretched more finely from waiting for Haggs to make the inevitable discovery. Gadget had seen that Haggs was an effective officer, for all her faults, who let nobody get away with anything and could be depended on to find something hidden by a drunken, rookie inmate. 

Her imagination conjured images of the probable consequences of Haggs finding the knife. Gadget tried to push the images to one side. She squeezed her eyes tight shut to block out the first pricking of tears forming in her eyes and began to move her lips in silent prayer, just as she would when she was up in the Ranger Plane and bad weather closed in. She was unaware of Bubbles watching her from the floor, perhaps busily working out the cause for her distress and perhaps transported back in time by memory to another prison, years before. 

Haggs found the knife. 

The sudden silence announced it to the two prisoners. Bubbles looked over to see Haggs holding the knife almost as if it were a bunch of flowers someone had unexpectedly given her. 

"What have we here?" the white rat cooed. "What have we here?" She looked at Gadget who was peering fearfully over her shoulder. "Ho-ho, you're in trouble now, my girl. What's that on the blade? Is that blood on the blade? It is, isn't it? And just who were you thinking of using this thing against next? One of us, a guard?" 

Gadget turned her face back to the wall. She rested her forehead on the cool, grimy surface and bowed her shoulders. A single tear spilled down the peach-fuzz fur on her cheek. She had lost the battle not give Haggs the satisfaction. 

Haggs laughed cruelly. "When I'm done with you, you'll know just how that T-shirt feels." 

The officer reached out for Gadget's shoulder. 

Gadget flinched at the touch. 

Fury crossed Haggs face like a thundercloud. She raised the nightstick. 

Bubbles spoke quietly. "Leave her alone. It's mine." 

148 

"It must have slipped from where I hid it." 

Haggs reply was unrepeatable. She compared Bubbles admission to a substance not uncommonly used as fertilizer in rural districts. 

"Bubbles?" Gadget's voice was weak and shaky. 

"Quiet. Look, Haggs, who would you really rather have to yourself? Her or me?" Bubbles managed to sound braver than she felt. 

Officer Haggs chuckled breathlessly. "Oh, McGee. You're so right. Yes, I'm sure the knife is yours. Now, let's be having you. I think I'll use the cuffs to make sure we don't have any trouble." 

"Bubbles?" Gadget asked again. She was sounded panicky. 

"Quiet you, or I'll make this a doubleheader." 

"Don't do this." Gadget said, her face a picture of horror. 

"I said quiet!" Haggs marched Bubbles out of the cell. 

Gadget was left behind in the ruined cell. She tried to cover herself with the ruined T-shirt but her best efforts left her back bare and her midriff completely exposed. She had knotted the tattered material of the back of the shirt at her waist, then turned the shirt the correct way around so the knot was in the small of her back before pulling the T-shirt up cover her chest. It wasn't an ideal solution because, like any rodent, Gadget's anatomy was different from that of a primate. She was showing some intimate details that no human woman could boast but her more obvious attributes, at least, were under wraps. 

She was alone in the ruined cell. 

Moving slowly, she picked up the tattered mattresses and put them back on the bed frames and then she tried to make good where she could. When the cell's floor was clear enough to walk on, if still filthy and scattered with lint and cotton wool from the mattresses, Gadget sat down on her own bed and finally burst into tears. 


	22. Riot Act

**_Disclaimer_**

****

In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone… except a certain kind of lawyer.

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

**Riot Act**

149

Gadget had done her best to straighten up the cell and smarten her appearance but, without a mirror or water to work with, she knew it would be obvious she had been crying after a fight. Her torn T-shirt was still knotted below her breastbone and she wasn't sure how she was supposed to get another one. She would ask one of the guards after her shower.

Other inmates were looking sideways at her as they passed by the cell but Gadget was unaware of their looks and whispers. Her thoughts were entirely with Bubbles. Slowly and mechanically she rose from her bunk and made her way to the shower block. She still hadn't learned the importance of keeping her guard up at all times.

As she entered the shower changing room a large paw clamped down on her shoulder and swept her off her feet. A wall was the only thing that stopped her falling.

Gadget found herself pressed into a corner of the changing room with Molly's face pressed up against hers. The twins flanked Molly, cutting off any chance of escape and hiding Gadget from the rest of the room. The expressions of all three were unfriendly and Gadget instinctively knew that no one else was about to get involved in whatever was about to happen.

Molly's big hand was still wrapped entirely around Gadget's shoulder. When Molly squeezed, Gadget felt bones grind together and gasped. She knew that moles could dig through hard, compacted soil with their bare hands and for the first time it occurred to her to wonder just how strong they really were.

"Molly, you're hurting me." Gadget said with little hope that it would make any difference.

Molly's grasp didn't become any tighter but Gadget had the dreadful suspicion that it could, if Molly wanted it to. It didn't become any lighter either. Instead of relaxing her grip now that she had Gadget's attention Molly held her grip rock steady, not moving or shifting her muscles at all, proving that she had not only strength but stamina as well. Gadget contemplated the uses Molly might put such strength and stamina to. Molly gave her plenty of time to think about it.

"We heard about Bubbles getting dragged off by Haggs. Word from some of your neighbours is that you turned Bubbles in to save yourself a beating."

Gadget's jaw dropped. No wonder they were mad at her.

"Who? Who said that?" She demanded.

Molly glanced at the right hand twin, who stepped to one side and allowed Gadget to see a familiar group of mice who were changing slowly to catch as much of the show as possible.

"Them?" Gadget nearly shrieked. "They're the ones who tied my hair to the top of the cell door on my first night in this place! They hate Gadget Hackwrench so much they'd buy ringside tickets to watch you beat up a Barbie doll if you glued Mickey ears and a tail on it!"

"That description covers a lot of people in here, Red, but Darla's not one of them and she overheard Haggs telling one of the other guards about the look on Bubbles' face when you turned on her to avoid a beating." Molly smiled grimly.

_Jeepers, it's a wonder I'm still standing!_ Gadget thought. "It isn't so, Molly!"

"So tell me how it was." Molly perfectly mimicked the tone of the last detective she had seen before her trial date was set.

"I – " Gadget made the near fatal mistake of hesitating to consider whether to mention Ratigan.

"You wouldn't be considering telling me lies now, would you, Red? That wouldn't be wise at all. Because if you lie to me it could be that when me and the twins here walk into the flea-dip with you, we wouldn't be inclined to help you up if should you fall down in there like the first time you went through the dip. That stuff they use burns something fierce if gets in the eyes, don't it? I suspect too much of it could blind a person. In fact, sometimes a person can get stepped on when they fall down in there. Walked over like a doormat. Might drown, even. "

"I swear, no lies, Molly." Gadget had seen the boys lean on informers occasionally. She intervened when she thought it was necessary but always suspected that they went further when she wasn't around. Now she knew what it felt like, could she watch them do that again? Or listen to Chip brag about a case she knew he had solved by terrifying someone like this?

"Start talking then."

"I think I was hallucinating and I asked Bubbles to check if what I was seeing was real, only what I was actually seeing turned out to be Officer Haggs who thought I was insulting her."

"Hallucinating?" Molly crooked an eyebrow. "Red, that doesn't tell me how Bubbles came to be hurting in solitary and don't you doubt she is hurting because the box is a place Haggs only ever puts someone to hide their bruises."

"Haggs had a key. I think that means she was going to get into the cell with us anyway, don't you?" Gadget went on.

"Haggs had her own key to your cell?"

"Yes. It wasn't on a ring or anything."

"Haggs took a chance going in a cell with two prisoners, one with a knife, without another officer present to back her up. Maybe that stunt with Roxie was meant to see how tough you and Bubbles were in a fight before she tried anything." Molly mused. "She was giving Bubbles a hard time before the warden moved you in to the same cell. Did she ask Bubbles about where her cut from the warehouse robbery was?"

"No. She got spiteful because of what I said when I thought she was a hallucination."

"What did you say?" The left hand twin wondered with a horrible curiosity.

"I might have mistaken her for the phantom of the opera."

That brought a wry chuckle from the twins.

"She put us up against the wall and – " Gadget hesitated " – she frisked us. Afterwards I had to knot my T-shirt to keep myself covered."

The twins looked sympathetic. Molly was unmoved.

"Then Haggs found the knife. She was going to haul me off instead of Bubbles but Bubbles covered for me and said it was her knife. Seriously. I didn't ask her to or anything. I didn't even think of blaming Bubbles for it, I swear!"

Molly looked at Gadget steadily. Then, after a long pause, she removed her hand from Gadget's shoulder. "I won't say I believe you but that T-shirt is a mess. You could have done it yourself, I suppose."

"I didn't! Look how far apart the claw marks are!"

"Ah, I don't know. What do you say girls?" Molly glanced at the twins.

The twins looked at each other then seemed to reach an unspoken agreement. "I say we wait until Bubbles gets out and says what really happened." One of them said.

"Yeah, okay. Sounds fair enough to me." Molly agreed with them. "Okay, Red. You get to take a shower without having to hold your breath for today, at least. But from now on we'll be watching you instead of watching out for you."

With that warning, Molly and the twins walked away. Gadget let out a long breath she hadn't known she was holding. "Not good." She whispered to herself.

Gadget held on to the safety rail all the way through the flea-dip and went through the shower at brisk walk, just slow enough to be sure she wouldn't slip and fall. Her eyesight was fine and Bubbles' disappearance had been a signal for business as usual as far as the other prisoners were concerned. She looked straight ahead and thought busily about how she would rebuild the Rangerwing.

By the time she got back to the changing room, someone had stolen her clothes.

At first she assumed that they had fallen off the bench where she had left them folded. Not so. Then she looked around for someone the same size as her who might have mistaken them for theirs, until she remembered the shredded T-shirt. This was a prank. She remembered them from the very brief time she had spent in high school. Mercifully, it hadn't taken her the whole year to graduate. She looked for her towel so she could dry herself, cover up and go to ask for new clothes.

Her towel was gone too.

"Has anyone seen my clothes?" she raised her voice.

Nobody even acknowledged the question. There wasn't silence either. Everyone just went right on doing what they had been doing.

Gadget bit back her unhappiness and tried again. "I said: Has anyone seen my clothes?"

"Not unless they're the kind only people as smart as Gadget Hackwrench can see!" called out a comedian from the back of the changing room.

Not many people laughed. Perhaps they hadn't been read many Hans Christian Anderson stories when they were young, or perhaps they just weren't interested. Perhaps she had just misplaced her clothes in another vintage moment of Gadget Hackwrench absentmindedness after having the wits scared out of her by Molly and the Twins.

"Uh, can I borrow a towel from somebody?"

"Ask Bubbles, I'm sure she'll lend you hers, right girls?"

"Yeah, that's right!"

Murmurs of agreement came from around the room and along with the odd laugh and barbed whistle.

Three minutes later Deputy Warden Marion Cedar turned a corner to find herself confronted by a wet, naked, shivering inmate, who was clutching a strategically placed fire extinguisher.

"What on earth? Explain yourself this instant!"

Gadget hesitated. She wasn't stupid by any means; it was just that she wasn't used to applying her able mind to social situations. She had a feeling that if she complained about her clothes being stolen to a guard, even one as understanding as the Deputy Warden, the guard would investigate and tell someone off for stealing. Gadget had a sneaking suspicion that the other inmates would take that as the only confirmation they needed that she had turned in Bubbles and was just waiting for the chance to do the same to rest of them. They'd tear her to pieces, or worse. The same part of Gadget's mind that had handed her answers to every maths problem Gadget had ever come across started to list famous humans she might be able to do impressions of.

"I said explain yourself!" the Deputy Warden repeated.

"I seem to have misplaced my clothes." Gadget said. "And my towel. No one wanted to lend me theirs." She added.

The Deputy Warden looked her in the eye for a moment or two. "Right. I see." She said eventually.

"Can I have some new clothes?" Gadget asked mournfully. She was fighting hard to keep the whine out of her voice.

"That fire extinguisher is only for emergencies. There's a heavy penalty for taking it off the wall, otherwise. Are you sure there isn't something else you want to tell me?"

Gadget sniffed. This wasn't fair at all. Life shouldn't be treating her like this. "Positive." She said aloud.

"Very well, then." The chipmunk lady looked at her sternly but without real anger. "Put it back on the wall before anyone notices and we won't say any more about it. Then I'll escort you back to your cell. I'll bring you some clothes when I have time."

Ms Cedar allowed herself a brief, kindly smile in the direction of the shivering, younger mouse. Gadget accepted it gratefully. Strictly speaking Ms Cedar was bending, perhaps even breaking, the rules by not punishing her. The thought followed automatically that it wasn't just the opportunity to make her life a little more miserable that Ms Cedar had passed by. Gadget had given her a motive by giving her a crooked explanation for her troubles.

Gadget's heart soared. This small piece of kindness was a glimmer of the world Gadget had known before this place. It was like glimpsing something magical through the cracks in a wooden fence as a child while a parent pulled her along at a brisk walk.

"Thank you, Ma'am." Gadget said sincerely.

"Yes, well. Get on with it." Ms Cedar seemed awkward about accepting gratitude from her.

Gadget hung the fire extinguisher back on the wall and rushed to get back to her cell while the corridors were still deserted. It was strange enough to be walking down a corridor without any clothes while someone fully dressed walked alongside her without finding herself surrounded by jeering inmates as well.

Moments later Gadget was hiding under the blankets of her bunk, hoping that Ms Cedar wouldn't be too long in getting her some new clothes from the prison stores. Officer Haggs would have made her walk to the stores as she was, Gadget was sure. It had been an upsetting night with little sleep, followed by a disturbing morning. If she had known what was to follow, she might have pulled the blankets over her head and called it a day there and then.

150

"Come on, out of bed. The rest of us can't sleep all day, so there's no reason you should." The shrewish voice belonged to, well, a shrew actually. "The Deputy Warden sent me to give you these clothes and escort you to the laundry so you can start work. Though why she couldn't send you to get them yourself, I don't know."

Gadget started to explain the trick that had been played on her but the guard, one she hadn't seen before, held up a paw to silence her.

"Oh, I know about your clothes being stolen. As far as I'm concerned, you walked to the stores in the fur to get your uniform the first time and there's no reason you shouldn't do it again. Anyway, everyone knows they caught up with you after you fell off a barroom table in the middle of a striptease so you can hardly claim modesty now."

Gadget flushed unhappily. The memory of her arrest was more or less a complete blank. She didn't believe she'd done a striptease but, well, there was that recurring dream of hers, the one where she stood up on a stage and couldn't remember what she was supposed to do next. Not knowing was the worst thing.

Somewhat reluctantly Gadget dressed with her back to the guard. Again she faced the depressing fact that the prison uniform was so similar to the clothes she wore in normal life, a grey blue jumpsuit with a white T-shirt and underwear. She found herself longing to put on her little red dress again, if only so she could look at herself in a mirror as she sometimes did and reassure herself that, yup, she was still a girl. Lord, imagine not being able to ever try on a different outfit, even just to see if it was still the right size, for years or even decades at a time.

Not long after Gadget found herself trailing in the shrew guard's wake. She was being taken to work, apparently. She had no idea what kind of work, or where. "You'll see when you get there." The shrew sniffed when she asked.

Gadget made a careful note of the corridors they took and the turns they made on their way through the prison. Not that she was planning to escape, of course. She was just paying attention, as Bubbles had told her to. As they travelled, she hoped her work would be something mechanical. Even if it was only machine operating, she found the presence of machines reassuring and she was sure she could make some improvements to the machine in question.

"Frankly, it'll do you good. Learning what an honest day's work is for an honest day's pay." The shrew said.

"How much do we get paid?" Gadget asked out of curiosity.

"More than you deserve! You save it for when you get out of here and you should have enough to survive on until you find a job on the outside. Or enjoy yourself in some bar for the two minutes it'll take you to plan your next job."

"I was sentenced to fifteen years!" Gadget objected. "Surely it'll be more than that!"

"Alright then, ten minutes in some bar." The shrew shrugged.

They turned a corner.

Gadget found herself at the entrance to a large laundry. There was a pair of metal gates but all the metal bars in the world could not have prevented the smell of detergent escaping. Gadget could see into a large steamy room perhaps four feet square that had perhaps once been part of a human airing cupboard.

There were six laundry tubs made out of army surplus drinking cups that were rectangular and aluminium. They were arranged in two rows of three with a wide path between them. Each tub had a well-muscled prisoner stationed at one end to stir the steaming water with a human teaspoon. Gadget was not surprised to see that Molly was one of them. It suddenly occurred to her that she had been fortunate in her life's work. She had been an aircraft mechanic, an inventor and a Rescue Ranger. They were all jobs she had chosen to do of her own free will because she believed they were interesting, important and necessary. What took place in the laundry before her was simple, mindless drudgery. Gadget set her jaw. She could handle that. She knew plenty of people who worked for a living. She wasn't going to act like she was afraid to get her hands dirty.

At the far end of the room was a makeshift steam-press, the first interesting piece of engineering Gadget had seen since she passed Shrankshaw Prison's boiler-door front gate. Gadget smiled as though she had met an old friend and drank in the sight of the ancient steam iron dangling above a house-brick that had been wrapped in material cut from a fire blanket. Two rust stained bicycle chains had been wired to the front and back of the steam iron. Together, directly above the iron, they fed through a pair of gears that shared the same axle. The axle was mounted in something that Gadget guessed had started life as a toilet roll holder before it had been bolted to the laundry ceiling. A pair of lead pipes at the other end of the chains acted as a counter weight roughly equal to that of the iron, and made it possible for one or two small rodents acting together to raise and lower the business end of their steam press. A simple lever and pivot worked the steam button and a rubber hose fed the water from a bottle of mineral water that hung upside down from the roof next to the steam press. The air carried the familiar taint of electricity, which reminded Gadget of her workshop. She soon traced the scent to the frayed electrical flex that spiralled upwards to a plug that screwed into a human-scale light-bulb holder in the ceiling.

Now, had Bubbles been there, Gadget would have argued that she was paying attention, that she was paying attention to the steam press and that she could have improved it in a great many ways. It was just that while her attention was on the steam-press, it wasn't on anything else. That was how she failed to notice the guard who had escorted her there leave with a contemptuous sniff of her long shrew nose. It was also why she was so surprised when the hard edge of a laundry trolley hit her at waist level and somebody holding a big bundle of sheets pushed her into it from behind.

Gadget barely had time to squeal and then a load of freshly washed sheets dropped on top of her, muffling her complaints. She struggled to turn over and face her tormentor when she felt the cart start to move and she realised that she was being kidnapped. Who by and what for she could only begin to imagine.

As her imagination began to suggest awful possibilities about what was in store for her, Gadget began to fight the sheets and blankets that were tangled around her. She realised that she had lost track of which way was up and panicked.

The laundry trolley came to an abrupt stop.

"Just what do you two think you are doing?" A grim, familiar voice demanded.

It was a guard's voice. There was no mistaking the tone. Rich with authority and certain of it it's own power.

Gadget breathed a huge sigh of relief.

"Look at the state of those sheets. They're supposed to be freshly ironed and now they're all crumpled. In fact, I'd say they need washing again."

Using the voice as a guide, Gadget regained her sense of up and down and struggled into a sitting position. Even that didn't bring the relief she expected since she had a bed sheet over her head.

"Good heavens! It's alive!" The guard exclaimed.

A chorus of surprisingly girlish screams came from the watching inmates, as a ghost-like form rose up out of the laundry basket. Gadget turned her head left and right to track the sound but was unable to see the cause.

A hand took hold of the sheet by a corner and tugged it away to reveal a blushing, flustered young mouse girl who was suddenly the centre of attention.

"What's this? A stowaway?" the guard said with a wry smile. "I think you'd better explain yourself, young lady."

"Somebody pushed me!" Gadget exclaimed.

"What, into this laundry trolley?" The guard's eyes suddenly narrowed as she looked over Gadget's shoulder at someone behind her.

Gadget turned, already wincing before she knew what she was going to see. The twins stood side by side, their paws resting on the laundry trolley's handle. Gadget was torn between embarrassment and dismay.

"Right! I see." The guard glared at them and began tapping her nightstick against her palm. "Something you two want to be telling me?"

"We didn't know she was in there!" Protested the twin on the right.

"She must have been having a little joke. Hiding in there so she could pop out and pretend to be a ghost. Give us all a little scare. You saw her yourself, Officer Sternham!" The left twin said.

"Yeah, that's right. Tell her, Red. Tell her you were just having a little joke."

Gadget opened her mouth. She was suddenly aware of a great number of eyes being focused on her. On the one hand she could only think of one reason for the twins to abduct her and dreaded giving them a second opportunity; on the other she had no wish to confirm everyone's suspicions that she was a sneak and an informant. Of course, if she admitted to playing a practical joke on everyone, punishment from the guard would be certain. After everything that had been done to her so far, the thought of some added refinement of cruelty being heaped onto her was too much to bear.

"Well, what about it?" The guard demanded impatiently. "Did you get into that trolley yourself or did someone force you in?"

"I think perhaps that someone knocked me in by accident?" Gadget experimented by way of a compromise.

"You said someone pushed you." The guard said.

"I didn't say it was deliberate!" Gadget was defensive.

"No, you didn't. Did you see the person who did it?"

"No. They knocked me in while I was looking at the steam press and dumped a load of laundry on my back before I could complain." Gadget was relieved she couldn't say anything that would incriminate someone on that score. No danger of her informing on anyone there.

"Then you can't say that they did it by accident." The guard nodded, as though her suspicions were confirmed.

Gadget's jaw dropped. She hadn't thought of that. Did failing to provide someone with an alibi count as informing? Probably, given her luck so far.

"I sure nobody meant any harm." She said weakly.

"I think you're being very naïve." The guard told her. "Have either of you two got anything to say?" she addressed the twins.

"We didn't mean any harm, Ms Sternham!" the left twin protested.

"We were just trying to do a good turn, that's all!" the right twin added.

"I'd wouldn't say there was much good in the kind of turn I think you two had in mind!" Ms Sternham replied coldly.

The twins looked like a pair of schoolgirls who had been caught smoking and now faced a trip to the principal's office.

"Both of you, quick march. I'm taking you to the governor's office. She won't be likely to see the funny side of this either."

Gadget struggled out of the laundry trolley in their wake, still trying to think of a way to defuse the situation. By the time she had regained her feet it was too late. She was standing alone in a room full of hostile, silent faces, watching the twins being firmly led out the door.

151

Gadget stood in the centre of the laundry and felt like Wile E. Coyote awaiting the arrival of an especially large boulder. This wasn't good; she knew that, the thing was she didn't have enough experience to judge just how bad the damage was.

A quick glance around to get the lay of the room confirmed Gadget's fears that Ms. Sternham had taken a second guard with her to escort the twins. That second guard had left an empty stool next to the main gate, which she had locked behind her. Gadget instinctively checked for alternative exits. There were three. One was a door marked "Stores" which looked likely to be locked and was on the wrong side of, perhaps, two-dozen convicts. The second exit was one she had noticed as she came in. A hole had been cut in the ceiling so the steam press's electric cable could be fed into the room. Time or incompetence had enlarged the whole to the point where she could perhaps squeeze through, with difficulty and if she could somehow get the electrical wire out of the way.

Gadget nearly missed the last exit. She only saw it when she looked down from the hole above the steam press. There was a second gate on the far side of the laundry room behind the steam press, unlocked but guarded by an elderly male squirrel. She had known there were male guards in the prison but this was the first one she had seen. The sight of a male in a uniform made Gadget relax instinctively, even if the male in question was pushing the wrong side of sixty and his nose was buried deep in a copy of the racing form. No one would try anything with a guard in the room.

Molly glared at Gadget, then shook her head and looked away as though washing her hands of the whole business. Gadget's relief started to wane.

"So you're the celebrity look-alike we've all heard so much about." A grey mouse with long black hair stepped forward from one of the tubs. "Everyone's been dying to get a look at you. Not that we haven't seen just about everything in the showers… and the hallways."

People snickered.

"Are you the one who stole my clothes?" Gadget asked.

The grey mouse smirked and looked anywhere she could, so long as it wasn't into Gadget's eyes. "Clothes? No, I don't know anything about that."

"It wasn't funny." Gadget said.

"What's the matter, Red? Someone steal your sense of humour along with your clothes?" The voice was familiar.

Gadget whirled. Before she could pinpoint the speaker, the grey mouse chimed in again. "Ah, no matter. If you didn't like that joke, we have plenty of others that we'll be happy to share with you."

Gadget's eyes narrowed. "Is that a threat?"

The grey mouse's smirk widened to show her teeth, which had been sharpened, and raised an eyebrow to a fat brown rat that stood nearby with a teaspoon over her shoulder. The rat nodded and took a few steps back so she look directly at the old guard by the far door.

"Hey, Ivan! Ain't it usually about now that you take your morning potty break?" the rat called out.

Gadget's jaw dropped in shock. She hadn't even imagined speaking to a guard like that.

"I'll go when I'm good and ready." the elderly squirrel wheezed.

"What's the matter, old timer? Prunes not working this morning?" the rat returned.

The whole room heaved with laughter and the squirrel sank behind his racing form as though hiding. The laughter continued far longer than seemed reasonable until, finally, the guard could stand it no longer. He got up from stool and retreated through the far gate, folding his paper as he went.

Gadget watched him go with mounting alarm. She felt as though a pit had opened up beneath her. The feeling reminded her of a time, not long after she moved into the tree house that became Ranger Headquarters, when she had walked along a branch and taken a wrong turn. By the time she had stopped daydreaming and realised where she was, she was precariously balanced a long way out on a dead twig, high above the ground. She flinched at the sound of the gate being slammed shut behind the guard.

"See? It's a regular laugh a minute when you're one of the girls." The grey mouse chuckled again. "You want to be one of the girls, don't cha?"

"I guess." Gadget said doubtfully.

"Good. That's good, 'cause this place can be lonely if you don't have a few friends to have a laugh with. Why, some of us just spend the whole day thinking up jokes. We can be a regular riot when we want to be, can't we girls?"

Gadget waited for the murmurs of agreement to die down before asking: "Jokes like the one the twins just played on me?"

The grey mouse scowled. "Nah, we didn't put them up to that. Molly, you know what got into them?"

Molly looked up sullenly. "You're kidding right? They were just fooling around."

"I thought they only did that with each other?" the grey mouse insinuated.

Molly flushed beneath her fur. "I wouldn't know anything about that, Sheila."

"Glad to hear it." Sheila said.

"Sheila? That's your name?" Gadget asked.

"Yeah, that's my name. I'd introduce you around but I'm a little unclear on your name myself. Now, Bubbles said everyone was to call you Red but you're down as Jane Doe on the prison records and on the outside you prefer to be called Gadget Hackwrench. Is that right?"

Gadget opened her mouth to explain the whole story, and then closed it again.

"What's the matter, honey? Cat got your tongue?" Talk of cats and body parts between mice can be taken for aggression but Sheila's tone was saccharine.

"Uh, no. It's just that you're the first person to get that right since I got arrested." Gadget pretended not to notice the veiled threat.

"Some of the girls are running a little book on what your real name might be. Sooner or later you'll have to tell us what it is or we'll never know who to give all the money to."

"What are the odds on my real name being Gadget Hackwrench?" Gadget couldn't resist asking out of curiosity, even though she never gambled.

"Seven to one."

"Seven to one?" Gadget was amazed. "Why so low?"

"Hmm, well, some of us have got a little theory and it goes like this. See we reckon all that stuff about the real Gadget Hackwrench being in hospital is just a smokescreen; see? A story the Rangers gave to the press, to explain where the real Gadget was when, really, they'd sent her in here to spy on us."

Gadget stared at Sheila, acutely aware of the many pairs of eyes that were watching her. "Are you crazy? Do you really think I'd come into a place like this if I had the choice?"

Sheila grinned. "Not if you really knew what it was like beforehand but I don't think someone like Gadget Hackwrench would. Reckon this experience would be a real eye-opener for her, what do you say girls?"

"You bet!" the same familiar voice as before came from behind Gadget. This time Gadget had no trouble spotting Roxie in the crowd. The white mouse looked her straight back in the eye and said: "I think we could come up with something that would be a bigger eye-opener, though."

"Roxie." Gadget was new to thinking the worst of people but she had always been a fast learner. "You're behind this! Are you still mad at me for winning that fight? I let you go afterwards, didn't I? Or did Haggs force you to set this up too?"

Roxie's only answer was a snarl.

"Roxie doesn't run things around here. We do and if you want to finish the day outside of the infirmary you talk to me, not her. " Sheila said, flashing her sharpened teeth. The grey mouse threw a single glance at Roxie and clicked her fingers. Roxie hesitated for a heartbeat or two, then walked round to stand by Sheila's side.

"If I'm here to spy on you the way you say I am, how come that old guard left so easily? For that matter, how come Haggs has been making my life hell since I got here?"

"Maybe they didn't tell the guards." Sheila speculated. "Heck, half of them can't keep a secret anyway. Haggs definitely doesn't think you're the real deal but that doesn't prove a thing because the Warden and the Deputy Warden have both wanted Haggs out of here since day one. Funny thing how every time you're right up against it, it's either the Warden or Ms Cedar who come to your rescue. She arranged for a guard to bring a fresh uniform straight to your cell even, isn't that so?"

"Yes, she did." Gadget admitted. "But what about that time I spent in the Special Wing. The warden sent me there and I can't spy on much in a rubber room now, can I?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought at first, but you could have been anywhere when you were supposed to be in the Special Wing. I mean, the orderlies and the shrinks would have been the only ones to see you while you were there and, since we aren't that tight with them, we've really only got your word for it."

"I was almost electrocuted."

"Haggs's doing, by your own account. The Warden rescued you. And the whole prison knows that Chip Maplewood visited and spoke to the Warden right before you were released from the Special Wing."

Gadget stared at Sheila and Roxie. Gadget hated to admit it, even to herself, but as theories went theirs wasn't bad. It explained the observable evidence. Occam's razor would have preferred it to the truth.

"I didn't come here to spy on you." She declared. "And if I could walk up to the nearest guard and say "'I'm Gadget Hackwrench, let me out of here'", then I'd have done it by now."

It was the only truthful denial she could give them. By now, Gadget knew that they would either accept it and her, or not.

Sheila looked Gadget in the eye for a heartbeat or two, then shrugged as she conceded the point. "Maybe."

Beside her Roxie was dismayed but Sheila silenced her with a scowl. Sheila turned her face back to Gadget "Either way, I've seen some amazing liars in my time and let me tell you, you must be about the best of them. Considering what you're supposed to be in here for, I guess that holds true whoever you are."

Gadget considered this as long as she dared. "Thank you." She accepted the compliment at face value.

"I have to admit I'm a little disappointed though. You just cost me a week's pay." Sheila took a step towards Gadget. "I really hate to lose. Especially when I don't happen to have the money on me."

Gadget felt herself briefly teeter on the brink of a decision that she didn't want to make, then took the plunge. "Take it up with Roxie. She did put the idea in your head, didn't she?"

Sheila stopped dead and stared into the cool blue eyes of the mouse in front of her. Slowly, she found herself compelled to look back at the now shivering Roxie and smile.

"I'll do that." Sheila vowed. "We already know from Roxie that you can handle yourself but I've got to hand it to you: You've got nerve. You must be pretty tough down where it counts because, if I was in your fur, I don't know that I'd be able to come in here all on my own with no one looking out for me, no guards watching and stick to my guns the way you have."

Gadget sighed heavily. She relaxed.

"Especially not with everyone knowing I'd handed someone who took me under her wing over to Haggs the night before."

152

"Don't even try to deny it. Not two minutes after you handed the twins over to a guard, right in front of everyone, just for trying to get you out of here."

Sheila didn't give Gadget a chance to speak and she spoke loud enough to cover anything anyone else said. Until now Sheila had been talking to Gadget and the other people in room had been Sheila's props, her scenery to impress and intimidate her victim. Now they were her audience and her followers.

"I don't understand." Gadget meant it. They had been accepting her. She had given them the right answers. Sheila had even accepted that she was telling the truth. This made no sense. WHERE HAD SHE GONE WRONG?

"I can't believe those two idiots! Trying to sneak you out before anything bad could happen to you. Did you really not figure out what they were doing, or did you just turn them in by reflex, without even thinking about it?"

Every story Gadget had heard about what could happen in places like Shrankshaw went through her head in a heartbeat. "I didn't know there was a guard there when I stood up!" she protested.

"You didn't know there was a guard standing in front of you when you said someone pushed you in?" Roxie taunted.

Gadget looked for Molly in desperation. She was out of her depth. She felt like she was on trial again and this time she had the sinking feeling she was guilty.

A small group of inmates, no more than a quarter of the laundry workers at most, had shied away from the mob that was closing in around Gadget. They stood in small groups of threes and fours around the edges of the room. Molly was part of a group of four in the near corner, her back turned uncomfortably on the proceedings. Near her, facing Gadget, was Darla.

Gadget looked Darla right in the eyes just before the mob closed in and someone grabbed her hair from behind. The terrible look of knowledge and grief in the old mouse's eyes chilled Gadget to the bone. Then the mob was all around her and it was like being in the mouth of a wild beast.

153

Gadget plunged into the almost scalding water headfirst. The water was cloudy with caustic soap and dirty with the grime of that morning's dirty linen. A dozen paws seemed to be at her back, holding her face down in the washtub. Her hide was already scratched and torn in a dozen places by the claws of the inmates behind her and every wound flashed red with pain where the water touched.

The hands dragged her back to the surface. Gadget had gasped and choked a lung-full of air before she realised she was no longer underwater. Her fur was soaked with steaming water that held the heat against her skin. She opened her eyes to look for a way out but the soap stung them so badly she may as well have been blind. As the mob shook her, the water cleared from her ears and she could hear the angry, spiteful voices of the inmates around her.

"Dirty snitch! Clean her up! Clean her up! Dirty Snitch! Clean her up! Clean her up!"

Just as her eyes began to clear someone started to throw soap powder over her and she was blinded again. For good measure, they shoved handfuls of the soap powder down the back of her shirt collar and the front of her pants. Gadget writhed trying to escape but was rushed forward towards the washtub again.

"Help me!" Gadget called out. She jammed a foot against the edge of the tub and tried to hold herself back but the weight of numbers was against her. "Golly, won't somebody help me?"

She was able to snatch one last breath and hold it before she hit the water. This time a bed sheet enveloped her like a shroud as she sank. As she turned, the sheet twisted around her, wrapping her like an Egyptian mummy. It held her legs tight together and bound her arms to her chest as though she was trying to box her way out of it. The sheet covered her face and trapped a bubble of air around her face as her lungs lost their grip on what might be her last breath.

I'm going to die like this, Gadget realised, and perhaps no one will ever realise it's me.

154

The certainty that she was going to die stole over Gadget and, as it did, it replaced the fear that she might die with a cold and rational calm. She stopped thinking in words. Words were things you used to communicate with other people. There was no need for that any more.

At the tip of her mind was image of a grave with a blank headstone – blank because no one knew what to put on it. It was her grave, marked only so the gravedigger would not waste time trying to bury someone else where she lay.

Gadget twisted in the cotton binding that had become her death shroud. Water was flooding her lungs just as adrenaline had flooded her muscles and panic had flooded her mind.

She remembered that someone's life was supposed to pass their eyes before they died and she was disappointed to find that only snapshots of key moments in her life blossomed in her mind's eye. Being a Rescue Ranger was a dangerous job and she had been near death many times but had never accepted her own as completely as she did now. Perhaps, she thought, it was like someone in a burning building snatching up the family pictures that were closest to hand before escaping. Perhaps the other times she had faced death and come away alive were just rehearsals to help her choose the right picture moments.

Her mother left the house on an errand. Gadget regretted that her last words to her mother were: "See you in a minute, mommy."

A boy mouse had punched her when she was eight. She regretted not punching him back.

She was accused of cheating on a test when she was nine. She had claimed it was a fluke and deliberately flunked the retake. She regretted not proving how smart she was.

Her father waved to her as he left their house that final time, saying that he would be back in a few days. Gadget had been holding a spanner in one hand and a bolt in the other. She regretted not putting them down to wave back.

Chip and Dale tore their friendship apart over her as she watched. Gadget regretted that she had never told them how she really felt.

She clung to those last few memories as though they would keep her afloat in the silent black ocean she was drowning in, but her regrets were too strong. They weakened her grasp on each memory until it came as relief to her when the last image in her mind's eye dissolved into empty darkness and random flashes of light.

155

In the middle of a night that went on forever, a burning light came into being. The light was red and it was painful to look at, but the only important thing about the light was that it wasn't the darkness. The very fact that there could be something other than darkness made hanging on to the red important, even if it felt ragged and raw.

Something a long way away was making a terrible, rasping, bubbling sound. Sympathy for the suffering animal that was making the noise flickered but there would be some way to go before the feeling could be put into words.

A deep sob welled up from somewhere.

Something terrible had happened.

Yes, that's right, something terrible. Now what was it? The thoughts came in words now. Progress.

She couldn't remember what had happened but she knew that she had to do everything she could to help whoever was making those awful sounds. That was what you did when something bad happened. Everything you could.

That was why she had become a Rescue Ranger.

Gadget Hackwrench took a long dragging breath. The air felt like a knife cutting her chest open. In fact, the pain was so intense that now she knew where she was, she couldn't rule out the possibility that there really was a knife buried in her chest.

She blinked and tried to focus on the feet surrounding her.

"You near killed her! I say she's had enough!" Molly's voice. Her feet, too.

"What's the matter, Molly? Are you Bubbles' friend or the snitch's?"

"I say Bubbles says what we do with her."

"Sure, why not – let's ask her! I'm sure this little blabbermouth won't go running to the guards asking for protection in the meantime. She can be relied on to keep her mouth shut while we decide what to do with her, can't she girls?"

Molly's reply was drowned out by hoots of derision from the crowd.

"Looks like the girls don't agree with you, Molly." Sheila smiled. "What say you step aside and let us finish this?"

Molly seemed to be giving ground. Her feet took a half step or so back and her voice lost its demanding edge. "Look girls, some of you aren't meant to be here much longer. You want to rough her up; well, fine – she's roughed up! You got what you wanted. Don't put her back into that tub – because if you do, you'll kill her and that'll be murder. That's right: murder, not justice. Maybe not even revenge, cause it was Bubbles she wronged and not any of you, and murder is what they'll call it, too, and murder will keep you here a long time."

Gadget winced at the silence and cringed in anticipation of the mob's reaching paws. Sheila though, had other plans.

"Okay, Molly. If you don't want her back in the tub – we won't put her back in the tub. In fact, we'll even dry her out for you! Pick her up girls!"

Now the anticipated paws did reach for Gadget. They took her by her arms and hair and lifted her up into a mockery of a standing position. Gadget fought to catch her breath. Her strength was returning, but she stayed limp to give her muscles every second possible to recover before trying anything.

Sheila put her paws on Gadget's face and forced her eyes open. "Enjoy your bath, sweetie?"

"You don't care about Bubbles or the twins. Why are you really doing this?" Gadget rasped.

Sheila smiled and leaned in close to murmur in Gadget's ear. "Well, you look great and like I told you: You've got nerve and you're a terrific liar. Add in the fact that you can take Roxie and a couple of rats in a fight and you add up to the kind of competition I can live without."

Gadget tensed and glared. She wasn't being beaten for flunking a test; she was being beaten for passing one.

Sheila continued talking in a voice the crowd could hear. "I saw you admiring our steam press when you came in. Quite a machine, isn't it? Come on girls, let's give her a better look at it – up close and personal!"

Suddenly Gadget was being dragged towards the steam iron that she had indeed been admiring before. After her dunking in the tub there was no doubt in her mind that they were serious. Her heart felt as if it had been cut in two by shear, numbing terror. She started to struggle.

As she reached the steam press she was surprised to find her self nose to nose with Roxie. "Stop it, Sheila!" Roxie pleaded. "This has gone too far. I don't want anyone killed!"

"No one asked you what you wanted and no one's going to ask you. Get out of the way Roxie, or you can start paying off what you owe me right here in front of everyone."

"Please…?" Roxie whimpered.

Gadget caught a glimpse of Sheila striking Roxie with the back of her paw but had more pressing worries of her own. The steam iron was raised ominously and Gadget found herself looking up at it with a feeling of deep betrayal. It was like having a friend turn on her.

Two rodents took Gadget's feet and despite her best kicks they and the two mice holding her arms pulled her body taut between them. Working together the four inmates lifted her up off the dirty floor and positioned her face up on the bench of the steam press.

"Hold her, drat you." Someone said.

"I'm trying. It ain't easy, she's covered in soap."

Gadget was now looking straight up into the underside of the steam iron as it hissed and dripped scolding water. A drop landed on her ear and she yelped. The laundry tub had been filled with hot water but that single drop, no bigger than one of her tears, had been enough to blister and burn her.

The knowledge that she could be hurt and injured, maimed and killed, had always been with her; it was part of her life just as it was a part of every other life. Like most she had hidden the idea of her mortality away in the dark corners of her rational mind, in the hope that she wouldn't trip over it too often. Now she had found that knowledge again and, because it was her heart that had found it rather than her mind, it was a million times more real to her than it had ever been before.

Suddenly Roxie's face was thrust into hers. Gadget could see Sheila holding Roxie there by the scruff of her neck. From somewhere out of sight Sheila's voice came loud and shrill with a scalpel's edge of madness in it.

"Your choice, Roxie! Should we fry her sunny-side-up or over-easy? I'll let you decide."

"I'm sorry!" Roxie's tears fell freely into Gadget's face. Gadget could taste the salt in them. She let the flavour consume her tongue for a heartbeat or two, as though she could taste the apology itself and weigh the feeling behind it.

"Over easy."

"Wha-?"

"Over easy." Gadget whispered a second time.

"Come on, Roxie. I know you're squeamish but you're one of us now. Or would you prefer to be in there with her?"

"Over easy." Roxie said clearly.

"Turn her over, girls." Sheila ordered.

Gadget felt someone change their grip on her arm as they tried to turn her over. It was just what she had hoped for. She thrashed and hauled with all the strength she had left.

Her right arm came free.

The convict that had been holding on to Gadget's right arm fell backwards.

Two more stepped up to take the fallen convict's place but Gadget was already moving.

Gadget used her free right hand to attack the paws of the fat mouse who still held her left arm. The mouse, whose otherwise pretty face was marred by a vicious scowl, had fingers that were too strong for Gadget to dislodge.

The two new convicts reached for her free arm to pin it down again.

Gadget gave up on peeling the iron fingers off her own wrist and snatched desperately at the big mouse's face and hair. Her claws caught the long tangles of the inmate's hair, which Gadget used to drag her close in.

The big mouse took up most of the space and made it difficult for the two other inmates to get at Gadget. They tried reaching further under the iron to get her but with everyone jostling them from behind, most of their effort was spent on not being pushed up against the hot metal themselves.

Gadget pulled the fat mouse as close as possible, until their noses were almost touching, then released her suddenly. The mouse brought her head up sharply and it struck the hot underside of the steam iron with a crack.

Other angry paws grabbed for Gadget but missed. With no one holding on to her arms, the rats holding her feet were pulling her all the way through the steam press and out the other side, whether they meant to or not.

Hungry arms reached under the steam iron after her but it was too late. The rats behind her fell backwards and landed in a tangled heap with Gadget on top.

One of the rats grappled with Gadget. The other rolled clear but knocked down a third rat who had been working the counterweight that balanced the steam iron.

The counterweight made a swift journey towards the ceiling and the steam iron came down on the arms of the convicts who had reached under the steam press trying to catch Gadget.

Gadget wasted no time in biting the one remaining paw that still grasped her. She tasted blood and it brought her a savage satisfaction. She used the moment of freedom to make a desperate jump onto the side of the steam iron. She scrabbled for claw holds as she made her way to the top of the press.

Below her the angry rats had untangled themselves and one was already on her tail, pulling her back. Gadget found the only firm paw-hold she could, the lever that worked the steam button, and held onto it for dear life.

The iron hissed like a snake and belched clouds of steam below her. Screams rose to the ceiling of the room and seemed to circle there.

Gadget felt the rat let go of her tail. She was just throwing her leg over the iron's handle so she could straddle the steam press and plan her next move when suddenly the iron rose up under her without warning.

Both of the rats that had been holding Gadget under the iron, along with the rat that had been working the counterweight and half a dozen other inmates, were all pulling down on the counterweight together. The iron soared and Gadget had to bow forwards and hug the handle of the steam iron to avoid her head banging against the ceiling.

She looked down the side of the iron at the three inmates on the ground and the cluster of inmates surrounding them.

Gadget realised for the first time what had happened below her. The horror mixed with the terror she already felt and spiralled upwards into to some new emotion she had no name for. Dimly she became aware that whatever the mob had planned for her before paled in comparison to what they would do now.

Sheila's voice rose high above the sound of the crowd. "Where is she? FIND HER! Don't let her get away with doing this to ME!"

Sheila's voice cut through Gadget's emotions like a knife. She noted coolly that Sheila was standing at the back of the crowd without a mark on her. Everything she had done was a simple act of self-preservation, yet Sheila saw it as an act of defiance and took it as a personal insult - even as people she probably called friends writhed on the ground in front of her!

Gadget watched for a moment from her high, exposed, hiding place, where all anyone had to do to find her was look up or stand back from the mob. Then she turned her face towards the hole in the ceiling, the only way out of the room that wasn't locked.

The mob was too busy with the injured mice to worry about Gadget for a moment. She used the time to crawl along the steam iron's handle to the hole in the ceiling.

The bicycle cog that held up the back end of the iron blocked her way. There was no way to climb past it without gripping the chain or the cog itself and either was a good way to lose a paw.

To add to her troubles, while the convicts on the right hand side of the iron had no idea where Gadget was and probably didn't care too much at the moment, the group on the left hand side who were working the counterweight knew exactly where she was.

Inspiration struck her and she reached for the point where the power cable fed into the back of the steam iron. The electrical flex hung loose. It had been made with enough slack for the iron to be raised and lowered without the cable being drawn taut at any point. Gadget grabbed the wire now and pulled up armful after armful of slack electrical cable. It was heavy going but she had a plan now and if it worked she might yet get out of this alive.

The iron was being lowered now and Gadget could see people waiting for her with laundry stirrers to be used as clubs. Without hesitation she fed the cable into the gap between cog and chain and held it there until it caught and was dragged in.

Sparks flew.

Gadget was used to that. She let the sprocket teeth hold the cable where it was and began to back along the handle to the front of the iron.

A thrown teaspoon tumbled past her. The mob wasn't ready to give up yet.

The inmates working the counterweight tried to lower the iron but the cable jammed the rear cog effectively. The front of the iron dropped but only by an inch.

Gadget felt her self slide backwards. Below her was a dial with the words "Min" and "Max" moulded into the plastic. Next to them someone had badly written in whiteout fluid "Please use a step ladder to adjust the heat setting." She kicked the dial repeatedly until it pointed to maximum.

At the far end of the iron, the electrical cable twitched, then jerked as someone tried to pull it clear of the cog.

Gadget couldn't see who was trying but smiled grimly at their efforts. "No chance." She whispered. She could see where the copper wire had melted itself to the sprocket.

The cable became taut and started swaying. Someone had begun to climb up to the iron. Gadget hadn't anticipated that. She wondered if somewhere a fuse had blown, or whether the power was still running.

Unable to affect the outcome either way, she backed further along the iron's handle until she reached the steam button. Another thrown missile whizzed past her head and she decided her life expectancy would be improved significantly by a smoke screen.

Billows of steam rose around her as she worked the steam button. There were no new screams but an angry face rose over the back end of the iron to challenge her.

"You little idiot!" Molly yelled. "I'm gonna snap your neck!"

Gadget clamped down on the steam button again. The iron was too high to hurt anyone below, she thought, but hopefully it would prevent anyone climbing up the electrical cable after Molly.

"You think I should have just let them to that to me?" Gadget yelled at the mole.

"Do you have any idea what you did down there?" Molly demanded, then swore. "A trip to the hospital, that's all it would have been. Maybe a few scars that would keep you out of a bikini –like they let you out of this place to go to the beach. Now, I _have_ to kill you."

Molly struggled onto the back of the iron and clung to the handle, facing Gadget. She was too far away for Gadget to attempt to knock her off and in any case, doing something violent to one of Bubbles' friends would have been crossing a line.

"You don't have to do anything, Molly." Gadget answered. "Not for Sheila. You should be the one in charge here, not her. You're better than she is."

"Like you think you're better than Bubbles? Nah, I'm not better than Sheila, not when it comes down to making a crowd of people do what I want, and that's what it takes to run this place. I could take Sheila, sure, but not when she's got twenty brainwashed zombies standing in front of her ready to tear me apart." Molly started to crawl towards her.

"That doesn't mean you have to act like a brainwashed zombie yourself."

"You think I climbed up here because she told me to? You're even more ignorant than I thought. I'll kill you with my bare hands but I'll make it quick and painless. If you're half as smart as Sheila and Bubbles think you are, then you'll crawl over here and make it easy for me, because quick and painless is as good as you're going to get from here out."

"You really mean it!" Gadget realised.

Molly made a sound half way between a grunt and laugh. "And Bubbles will understand too, when she gets out of solitary. Probably even thank me for making sure you didn't suffer."

Gadget gave the only answer she could: "I won't let you kill me!"

"We'll see." Molly replied. The mole began crawling towards her.

Gadget was in a bad way and she didn't need anyone to tell her. She was down to the last of her strength now and both Molly and one of the bicycle cogs that lifted the iron now blocked the exit that she had planned to take, through the hole in the ceiling the electrical cable came though. She should have climbed the electrical cable instead of the steam iron to reach it, Gadget berated herself, cursing herself for the one chance of freedom and safety that it now seemed she had botched. Even now she could see the cable swaying rhythmically as someone else climbed it to join Molly in time for the execution.

Molly was almost in arm's reach now and as Gadget cast around for a way to escape she could see only four things in easy reach. There was the steam button, the water hose that fed water into the iron's reservoir, the cog and bicycle chain mechanism that lifted the iron, and lever that worked the steam button.

Gadget worked the steam button one last time. The scolding white clouds hid her from anyone trying to throw things at her at least. As she held the button down with she examined the lever with her hands and watched Molly with both eyes.

The lever wasn't much, she discovered. Someone had simply taken a long thin bolt and screwed it into something that would act as a hinge. She didn't need to think about what she was doing to unscrew it and work the steam button at the same time.

Molly's paws were suddenly around her throat. They were the shovel-like digging paws of a hard-working mole and the strength in them was awesome. It would have been enough to take Gadget's breath away even if the thumbs on those paws weren't crushing her windpipe.

Gadget pulled the bolt free and slid the shaft between Molly's wrists in one smooth movement. She used both hands to turn the shaft until Molly's grip on her throat was broken and Molly was forced to cross her wrists.

The mole pulled back with a snarl but the slope the iron was hanging at was working against her. As Molly pulled away, Gadget leaned forward to keep up the pressure.

Molly's arms parted to escape the hold. In that moment, Gadget swung upwards with the bolt, striking Molly under the jaw.

With a look of comical surprise Molly tumbled from the back of the iron into the crowd below.

There was a bellow of anger from the mob and more things were thrown. Gadget hugged the handle of the steam iron, pinned down by the barrage. When she dared to lift her head she saw Sheila grinning at her from the far end of the iron, dangling from the electrical cable.

Gadget brandished the bolt she had hit Molly with, as a warning.

Sheila kept grinning. She took one hand from the cable and reached to her back pocket, from which she took a home made knife the length of her paw. She brought the knife up to her mouth and gripped it between her teeth like a pirate. She never broke eye contact with Gadget, not even when she started climbing the cable again, paw over paw, which is why Gadget was looking her straight in the eye when she put her hand on a piece of bare copper wire.

The chain that raised and lowered the iron must have rubbed through the insulation, Gadget thought later. Whoever made the iron hadn't thought about how the various parts of their invention would fail, only about how they would work. At some unspoken level Gadget resolved to learn the lesson from the mistake of that unknown engineer. She did not know whether she could live with herself if she had to learn it from one of her own mistakes; that would be a savage education. But these were thoughts for a later time; a time when the afterglow of the bright blue spark jumping from Sheila's knifepoint had faded from Gadget's retina if not her memory and the smell of burning fur no longer curled in her nose whenever she heard something electrical buzz.

At that moment, it was all Gadget could do to watch, paralysed and fascinated.

The light in Sheila's eyes, which had been living hate, was replaced by the reflected glow of electricity. Sheila's fur stood on end, followed by her hair. If she cried out the sound did not make it past the knife she still held in her mouth, its point close enough to the bicycle chain for an arc of electricity to arch between them and throw grotesque shadows of Sheila's rigid body on the clouds of steam.

Gadget, to her credit, shook off her shock, struggled to her feet and ran along the wet and slippery back of the iron to help. The lights dimmed and flickered as she went, making the short journey even more dangerous.

The inmates in the mob below had seen Sheila ascend the cable and disappear in the clouds of steam like someone performing the Indian rope trick. Now they saw those clouds light up like a thunderstorm with Sheila's gigantic shadow jumping and dancing above them all. They watched as Gadget's shadow rose up out of nowhere and seemed to fight with Sheila's.

There was an awed silence. It was as though two gods from ancient myth had suddenly come to life and set to battle on the backs of storm clouds.

Sheila's shadow dropped away as though fatally wounded. Her body fell through the layers of steam and struck the hard concrete of the laundry floor with a splat.

A high shriek from one of Sheila's followers cut through the awed silence like a razor. "MURDERER! SHE'S KILLED SHEILA!"

156

Gadget heard the yell and gaped at the cloudbank that seemed to have issued it.

It was insane. It was ludicrous. It was unfair!

She was being accused of something she hadn't done, again!

But even then she was quick to realise what had happened. The protective smokescreen she had engineered had turned against her and prevented anyone from witnessing her efforts to save Sheila from certain death. And what wasted efforts they apparently were, without someone on the ground to provide medical attention for the electrocuted mouse and get her heart started again quickly.

Gadget peered down through the mist and quickly estimated her chances of being allowed to perform CPR on Sheila by the angry crowd below. They were poor, she concluded. All that would happen if she went down was that she would be torn to pieces and the people doing the tearing would trample the dying Sheila.

To Gadget's amazement the electrical cable went taut again as several heavy bodies began climbing it once more. Surely after what had happened to Sheila no one else – but that was the problem, she realised. No one had seen exactly what had happened to Sheila – although the flashes of blue light should have been a clue Gadget thought in irritation.

The cable was soaked with condensation. It was unlikely that someone else would reach the top without getting shocked. Gadget wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

The steam iron began to shake and buck under her. She realised that the people on the counterweight were trying to free the lifting mechanism again. The length of slack cable that she had jammed the cog and chain with was still in place, had in fact melted in places where the sprocket's teeth had cut through the insulation. She was amazed that anyone could touch the counterweight without getting shocked.

Then she heard a voice below shout out: "Heave-Ho!"

They weren't trying to climb the cable, they were trying to pull it loose from the lifting mechanism so they could reach her more easily, perhaps shake her off entirely. As the steam began to thin, she could make out a knot of bodies clustered around the base of the wire. Gadget had been sure that the electrical cable was jammed into the cog too tightly for anyone to release it without the right equipment but surely nothing could resist the mob below now they were concentrated on a single task.

The iron bucked under her like an angry beast and Gadget clung to the steam iron's handle, bracing her self for the inevitable.

The cable gave way with the sound of tired metal giving way to fatigue. Gadget felt the iron jump, buck and swing under her. The back end of the iron dropped four inches and stopped with a jerk.

The mob had succeeded in freeing the rear end of the iron but in the process they had torn the cable loose and now the exposed end of the live wire was somewhere on the wet and crowded floor below.

Gadget gritted her teeth and tried to think of a way out of this that didn't involve getting killed. A stream of dust fell past her face from the ceiling above her. Squinting upwards she saw cracks in the ceiling appearing around the fixtures that held the lifting mechanism to the ceiling. The steam iron swung like a pendulum and with every swing the bracket that held the cog at the rear of the iron came further out.

Gadget held her breath. She didn't want to think about what would happen to the people below if the iron fell without warning.

Steadily, the swings became less wild and it seemed the danger had passed. Then, just as Gadget let out her breath, the ceiling gave way with a roar of tortured plaster and wood.

The iron dropped like a hammer, striking the lower half of the press with a crash like a thunderclap.

Gadget closed her eyes and preyed for the end to come quickly. By doing so she missed seeing the lead counterweight become a large, heavy projectile as the breaking lifting mechanism and falling iron catapulted it across the room.

The lead pipes that had balanced the heavy steam iron for so many years slammed end first into the square four-litre mineral water bottle that acted as a reservoir for the laundry's water supply.

The water bottle exploded, its side torn open, and the laundry room was flooded to the height of a rat's shoulders.

The deluge hit the exposed end of the live wire that had been lying forgotten on the laundry floor. The lights of Shrankshaw Prison failed, plunging the inmates and guards alike into darkness.

157

Ivan the red squirrel had been a prison guard for so long that most people he worked with assumed that he was a grey squirrel. He had been blessed with a long life but had achieved little during his time. He was a creature of habit and had remained a prison guard because he liked following a regular routine. He had ended up at Shrankshaw after he became too long in the tooth to keep up with the young hoodlums they were sending to the male prison these days, which was where he had worked before.

If only someone had warned him that the female of the species is always more deadly than the male. He would have taken early retirement as his old boss had suggested.

As he sat behind his racing form and waited for the prunes to do their work, he hoped that the laundry would be running smoothly when he returned and that there would be no visible evidence of whatever trouble the inmates had needed to work out amongst themselves. It was important, he reflected, to let a natural pecking order develop amongst the population and then make use of it. His first warden had told him that as they watched the closing stages of a vicious, tooth and claw brawl in the exercise yard. Some of the guards had even bet on the outcome, though in those distant days Ivan him self had not begun to gamble.

He remembered the distracted innocence of the new blonde mouse-girl and hoped it would not be a case for the infirmary. Still, it could not be helped, he told himself and at least this way he could get back before they had time to do too much harm to each other and make sure the girl received medical treatment if she needed it. Better that than allow the inmates to find a moment – as they would sooner or later no matter how closely watched – when they could do whatever they wanted and leave the girl to perhaps die of her injuries.

Yes, he reflected. He had done the right thing. Practically done the girl a favour; given her a chance to find out where she fitted into the system. He rustled his paper.

The sound of rushing water filled his ears. Ivan frowned. Surely that couldn't be coming from outside the bathroom?

That was all the warning he had before the tidal wave rose around him. It lifted him from his porcelain throne and carried him away, out of the bathroom and down the hall. It finally deposited him at the warden's feet with the uniform pants he wore to conceal his bald spot still around his ankles.

Ivan looked up at his water-damaged superior and declared without a second thought: "You can take the pension and sit on it! I QUIT!"

158

Five minutes later Gadget was picking her way through the groaning bodies of her fallen enemies when she looked up and found herself looking Warden Phelps in the eye.

Warden Phelps was as mad as the proverbial wet hen and had entered the laundry room flanked by her deputy, Marion Cedar, on one side and Officer Haggs on the other. Marion looked damp and miserable and had lost her favourite clipboard and pencil. Officer Haggs, true to type as always, had come through the whole thing without even getting her feet wet and was grinning from ear to ear, her eyes glowing with delight.

Gadget looked around her with her hand over her mouth, as though she had said a very rude word in public much louder than she intended. Whether she was looking for a witness to back up her side of events, or just trying to work out how much trouble she was in by the amount of damage done, was impossible to say.

"My office, all of you who can still walk, immediately!" Warden Phelps squeaked.

Looking very much like she would rather be doing anything else in the world, Marion leaned forward and whispered something in Warden Phelps' ear.

The warden blinked. "It appears my office is two levels below the laundry and will probably be partly underwater until tomorrow afternoon." She said. "Right, _fine_. We'll do this here and now. Who is ultimately responsible for all this?"

Again, looking like she would rather do anything else in the world, Marion leaned forward and whispered something in the Warden's ear.

The warden's face set like stone. "Right, of course. It appears that _I_ am ultimately responsibility for everything that happens within the prison. I'll re-phrase the question. Who actually DID this?"

Gadget finished looking at the damage, swallowed hard and immediately decided that she wasn't going to put her hand up and say: "Please Miss, it was me. I didn't mean to."

Gadget wasn't proud of herself for making that decision but she had enough problems without asking for more trouble. On the upside, at least she could be reasonably sure that she was safe from the other inmates informing on her. If they were willing to do this to a new inmate who simply didn't know the rules and had only crossed the line by accident anyway, surely no one would dare point the finger at her under these circumstances.

Gadget turned to see if anyone else wanted to try explaining the disaster away as a simple accident, or perhaps a figment of the Warden's imagination. Nearly every prisoner in the room, including some who were still face down in puddles and that she had feared were dead, had raised an arm to point directly at her.

"I might have known." Warden Phelps admitted grudgingly. "Well, 24601, you've brought new meaning to the phrase 'seeing Red'. I could ask you how or why you did this, but in view of the fact that you're serving fifteen years for fraud and deception amongst a great many other things, let's face it: What's the point?"

"Uh, to see if you believe me?"

"No. I know I'm not going to believe you. I'm seeing it right now with my own eyes and I still don't believe it." Warden Phelps took a deep breath and carefully considered the problem of the blonde troublemaker in front of her.

The way Red stood with her head hanging so that her hair – which had surely been auburn before – hid her eyes. The way she looked at her feet with her hands clasped behind her back. The way she rocked backward and forth just a little. It all made her look more like a formally well-behaved schoolgirl who had gone spectacularly off the rails and now feared the dreadful consequences that awaited her.

Was this the evil mastermind that had defrauded so many people across the country in so many daring ways by pretending to be Gadget Hackwrench? It was hard to imagine.

Any moment now, Warden Phelps realised, I'm going to start to feel sorry for her. So will at least some of the other people watching. Well, Marion will. And I'll have to punish the girl anyway and then everyone will hate me for it. In return, I get to spend the next three weeks doing nothing but paperwork in a damp office that smells like wet dog. I get to go before the board of governors and explain that we need all the ironing boards in the laundry replaced because we almost had the world's first surfing jailbreak. And then, most likely, I get to get fired.

Meanwhile, Red would be in solitary – probably the one safe, quiet, dry place left in the whole prison after this fiasco.

For a moment the Warden regretted that she couldn't leave Red with orders to mop up the entire prison single-handed and spend the next four weeks in solitary herself, until it had all blown over.

Hadn't she been a redhead before? That was why they called her Red, surely – or had there been another reason that the authorities weren't privy to? But now the girl's hair was much lighter, and so was her fur. Presumably Red's red had come out of a bottle and had now been washed away along with most of the office furniture.

The thought of the lost office furniture, which would cost a _fortune_ to replace, was a fresh spur for Warden Phelps's temper. But even as she pictured her own high-backed office chair floating down the sewers, she kept in mind that it would be unprofessional for her to lose her self control with a prisoner, especially with her senior staff and half the prison inmates watching. Instead, she dredged her memory and imagination to find the worst punishment she was allowed to administer.

"Officer Haggs. Since this inmate clearly requires _special_ care, you will now take charge of her. I'm making her your personal responsibility. Take her to solitary. I will consider how long she should spend there and inform her of my decision when she is released. If you have any suggestions on how she should be disciplined for this offence I will be happy to consider them. If you have any advice on how she is to be treated in the future, I will be happy to take them under advisement."

Red looked up with eyes the size of marbles.

"BUT – but you CAN'T!" she squeaked.

"I can. I have. Marion, with me." With that Warden Phelps turned on her heel and marched briskly away.

Officer Haggs' eyes shone as brightly as a cat's. She walked slowly, circling Gadget, with a broad satisfied smile on her lips.

Gadget found herself trembling. She had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from babbling anything that would make things worse.

Haggs came to a stop just behind Gadget's left shoulder and put her mouth close to Gadget's ear. "Put your faith in the Lord," she whispered almost lovingly, "because from now on this – " she tugged hard on Gadget's tail " – belongs to _me_."

159

"You realise you just gave Haggs carte-blanche in there?" Marion whispered when they were a safe distance down the hall. (A safe distance being quite a long way when someone with ears the same size as their face might be eavesdropping.) "You might as well have declared open season on Red."

"Yes, of course I realise that!" The Warden snapped back at her friend.

"Phyllis, you're being a little harsh. The girl might have been defending herself."

"Harsh be damned." The Warden whispered back. "We've probably going to have to re-fit the whole place."

"You've been saying for years that's overdue."

"Marion, there's going to be an inquiry about this and afterwards I'm probably going to have to go before a tribunal. If I want to keep my job, I'm going to need Margo Haggs on my side. She's got connections and while it's too much to expect her support, she could absolutely bury me if she took the stand and put her own spin on this mess. Until this is all sorted out, I'm afraid that Margo is going to have to be kept happy and distracted. We're going to have to humour her and if that means giving her one particularly troublesome inmate as a whipping boy, then so be it."

"But – I mean, can you imagine what she's going to do to the poor girl?"

"That poor girl has probably hospitalised fifty people. She deserves everything Haggs does to her."

But without wanting to, Warden Phelps did find herself imagining what Haggs would do to the girl and, as her conscience began to bother her, her brisk pace slowed.


	23. Dark Places

_**Disclaimer**_

In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone… except a certain kind of lawyer.

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

**Dark Places  
**

160

Haggs dragged Gadget through the devastated and darkened hallways of Shrankshaw Prison, without the slightest care whether there was anyone to see her or what she was doing to the unfortunate prisoner in her charge.

Gadget set her teeth against the pain from the arm lock. For her part, while Haggs didn't care who saw them, Gadget was dismayed how few people there were to witness the way she was being treated and how few of the people who were there paid any attention. Alarmingly, of the few looks the pair did attract on their way to solitary, some were leers.

Haggs practically flung Gadget through an iron doorway into a small white room. The floor was a single human shower tile and matched the ceiling and walls perfectly in size and decoration. The only difference between any of the surfaces was the door they had come in through, a sink in one corner, the light fixture and a terrifyingly stained and dirty drain in the centre of the floor.

Gadget's stomach became a hard, frightened knot that threatened to double her over ahead of schedule. She shivered and tried not to throw up.

Haggs was easily head and shoulders taller than Gadget. With one hand the prison officer pushed the mouse out into the centre of the room and slammed the door on them both.

Gadget wanted so badly not to embarrass herself or give way to this bullying rat who she had learned to hate so much. Hate itself was uncomfortable for her but irresistible after she had suffered so much. She was utterly helpless.

Haggs watched her victim's eyes roll for a moment or two before laughing. "There's no way out, scum. You're all mine in here."

Gadget felt her lips move but her pleas were stillborn because the fear had her chest in a vice. She was ready to get down on her knees and beg for mercy and she didn't care what anyone thought of her any more. She would have begged Haggs for mercy in front of her friends, in front of Bubbles, in front of her parents, in front of a crowd of reporters taking notes and photographs.

"Take off your shirt." Haggs said.

Gadget cringed and fumbled at her shirt. She could feel her last reserves of self-control slipping away. The buttons, so simple that most people wouldn't even consider them machines, were suddenly defeating her feeble attempts to undo them.

Haggs advanced on her pityingly. "Not so smart now, are you?"

Gadget sank to her knees and heard herself begin to mummer words even she couldn't understand.

"Take it off." Haggs ordered a second time.

Gadget balled the shirt up and held it protectively in front of her self, close to her chest.

"My, such a modest little thing now. No one would ever guess you were capable of putting up a fight like that in the laundry room."

Fight. Yes, that was it, fight. She should fight Haggs. Except that her entire body was shaking with exhaustion after her acrobatics in the laundry room and Haggs was fresh, armed and bigger than her. She wouldn't stand a chance like this and Haggs would have all the permission she needed to beat her with in an inch of her life.

Haggs reached out and took the shirt away with out any difficulty at all. "Now the rest."

Gadget shuddered and complied, leaving the last vestiges of her pride crumpled on the floor.

"Stand up properly, you snivelling little wretch." Haggs sneered.

Gadget stood to attention miserably, her arms by her side. The end of Haggs' night stick punched her sharply in the solar plexus. Gadget sank, winded.

"I said stand up properly." Haggs ordered again.

Gadget looked at her in disbelief and tried to stand. She was too slow for Haggs' liking. Haggs reached out with her free hand and slapped Gadget in the face, hard enough to make her step back. As Gadget stepped back, Haggs stepped forward and slapped her again.

"Come on. You're still not standing properly, are you?"

SLAP.

Gadget tried to straighten again but it just made it harder to roll with the force of the next blow.

"You've got to learn to do as your told."

SLAP.

Before Gadget knew what had happened she had taken one step back after the other until the cold, sterile tiled wall was against her back and she had no where to go.

The slaps were hard enough to sting but Gadget had taken harder hits, some of them from Haggs. What made these slaps hurt more than anything else she could remember was the helpless feeling of not being able to hit back.

Haggs paws were on her suddenly. The strong clawed fingers and thumb of one hand easily cupped her whole face, squeezing the cheeks together until Gadget's jaw was forced open wide enough for Haggs to look inside. Satisfied the guard relaxed her grip enough for Gadget to close her mouth.

"I tried tell you nicely when that detective tried to visit, trying to offer you an easy time in exchange for a little information. You don't get easy time in here, not if you're on my hit list."

"Tell me what?" Gadget almost sobbed.

Haggs used her grip on Gadget's face to sharply rap her head against the wall in time to her words.

"This is my prison." Crack!

"Not the Warden's." Crack!

"Not yours." Crack!

"MINE!" Crack!

"Some people just have to learn the hard way. Still, we can't expect much in the way of brains from a blonde, can we? You're probably slow, aren't you?"

Gadget closed her eyes and tried to turn her head away.

"Tell me how slow you are. I want to hear you say it like you mean it." Haggs smirked.

"I'm not slow or stupid. I know lots of thi–" Haggs punched her in the belly and Gadget folded clutching her middle.

"Not got so much to say for yourself now, have you?" Haggs gloated savagely.

Gadget suddenly discovered a truth that had been hidden from her. This place, the room, the prison and everything that happened in it truly did belong to Haggs and she to them. This prison was Haggs territory. Gadget had territory too. She knew machines and mechanics as well as Haggs knew regulations and brutality, that was the ground she was strongest on and that was where she retreated now, just as she had in the laundry when she was threatened.

Admittedly she couldn't see what advantage an advanced understanding of mechanical engineering and applied physics would give her in this situation but she felt stronger for the insight and the knowledge it gave her.

"I know lots of things." Gadget mumbled from the floor and waited for the kick. It didn't come. Fearfully she peaked back and up at the white rat and saw to her horror that Haggs was taking off the leather belt from her uniform jacket.

"Do tell." Haggs said conversationally as she folded the belt into a vicious loop.

"The iron that fell. It was a vintage 1976 General Electric automatic steam iron, probably manufactured in their Minnesota plant. It weighs 5lbs when it's dry and 7lb when it's full of water." Gadget heard herself say it before she knew what the words meant or why she was saying them.

"What?" Haggs' eyes widened in confusion as she tried to make sense of what the crazed mousemaid was talking about.

Gadget's voice rose as she became more confident. "The lifting mechanism that raised and lowered it used two nine-inch lengths of Whipperman traditional brushing type bicycle trains from a six speed full width freewheel bicycle and they were almost certainly made in West Germany; the chain-wheels they were strung across were 3/32 inch, eighteen tooth sprockets."

Haggs looked at her in bewilderment. "So?"

"Do you think these are things that a crazy person would know?"

Haggs laughed. "I think they're things that only a crazy person would know!"

"They're things an engineer would know. I know them because I'm an engineer. I know them because I'm Gadget Hackwrench."

Haggs let the end of the vicious loop of leather she held in her paw flop down to caress Gadget's cheek. "That routine got you in here. I wouldn't count on it to get you out."

"Do you think a crazy knows enough self defence to fight off a whole mob single handed?"

"Everyone knows crazy people have the strength of any three normal people." Doubt entered Haggs eyes for the first time. Gadget persisted.

"Why do you think they wanted to tear me apart in the first place?"

"Your winning personality, no doubt." Haggs sneered but Gadget could see that she was thinking about it.

"A new inmate? A WHOLE MOB? The first time most of them had laid eyes on me?"

"They thought you had betrayed Bubbles." Haggs sounded dismissive but Gadget could see the cogs turning. The white rat was thinking about it.

"Maybe you don't believe it right now but you are about to assault a Rescue Ranger and one day you aren't going to have any choice but to believe it. It would be better for you if you faced up to it now because when the truth comes out the people who have been mixed up in this will two kinds of heads; the kind that roll and the kind that don't. Which group do you want to be a part of?" Gadget put as much force of will into the challenge as she could and still felt her voice tremble.

"I tell you what," Haggs said after a moments thought. "I'll give you a stay of execution. And in return you'll give me a way to prove to my own satisfaction that you're telling the truth. I'll take tomorrow off and spend it checking your story out."

"That's more than anyone else has done for me." Gadget gave credit where it was due.

"If I find proof you're telling the truth, I WILL get you out of here… but only in return for your silence about everything you've learned goes on in Shrankshaw Prison."

Gadget hesitated. Could she stay silent about what she knew about Shrankshaw Prison? Then again, could she ever bear to tell anyone about the horrors and humiliations that she had suffered?

"Well? Have you got anything to tell me? Or shall I now pronounce sentence?" Haggs snapped the looped belt against her paw a couple of times in a business-like manner and then let it fall against Gadget's bare back under it's own weight.

Gadget cringed and racked her brains. If only she had more time to think about how to prove her claims – Golly, she had spent time thinking about how to prove herself innocent! She'd done practically nothing else for the first two – admittedly heavily sedated – days in this place! She just had to pick one – but which one? WHICH ONE?

"Nothing more to tell me then? I didn't really think so…" Haggs raised the leather belt.

"Jennifer Talbert-Hall, lives in apartment 23b under the human building on the corner of West 34th Street and Elk Avenue, over on the west side of town by the Gold Pagoda Theatre and the bar where I was arrested."

"What about her?" Haggs frowned. "Didn't she give evidence at your trial?"

"Yes, but she was upset and tired and she wasn't wearing her glasses and I wasn't wearing…" Gadget broke off and her eyes went wide. Why hadn't she thought of that earlier?

"Wearing what?"

"The little red dress. The one I was wearing when I was brought here. It was one she loaned me. My lawyer loaned me something respectable for the trail but I had to give it back when the trail ended. It should be in stores or something for when I get out."

"The clothes you were wearing when you arrived here were reeking of human sewage. They may have already been destroyed." Haggs mused.

Gadget shrank with dismay. "What about the shoes, the earrings, the necklace? They were all Jen's. Surely something that survived she would recognise?"

Haggs looked into the eyes of the terrified mouse on the floor and held her gaze for several seconds. "Kiss the end of my tail while I think about it."

Gadget's breathing stopped with horror.

"Not much ask surely, to get out of here?" Haggs pointed out, bringing the end of her long thick hairless tail round in front of her own body for Gadget's inspection. "Besides, I want to know that you're serious about wanting me to do this; otherwise how do I know that you're not just sending me on a wild gouda chase to buy yourself a little time?" Haggs wore a frightening smile.

Gadget tried to say that Haggs couldn't be serious but choked on the words.

She had no choice.

And she knew it.

161

Gadget knew they had been heading upwards and therefore towards the surface and the human prison above Shrankshaw, since Haggs took charge of her in the laundry.

The waters from the flood - her flood - had effected every part of the prison below the laundry. Many of the areas above the laundry were naturally dank anyway, due to Shrankshaw's proximity to a human drainage and sewer system. It seemed, perversely, that her punishment was to be locked safely away in the only warm and dry place left in the prison.

That, plus anything else Haggs did to her while she was here.

They came to the opening of a human made pipe about six inches in diameter.

"In here." Haggs briskly instructed.

The pipe branched off in several directions. Each smaller side tunnel was about two feet apart and about four inches in diameter, but had been closed off from the main pipe by a round plug of lead. In the centre of each plug was a doorway just barely tall enough for Gadget to go through without stooping. The doors themselves were heavy metal with a single square letterbox cut into them for guards to view the prisoner.

Any human that excavated this part of the prison would mistake it for part of the prison drainage system, be at most a little curious about why these pipes weren't connected to any other pipes before dismissing it as a mistake on the part of the original builders. He would never imagine that he was looking at the solitary-confinement cells for a rodent penitentiary, cells that might even still contain inmates who had been abandoned to their fate when human digging was detected.

"Say hello to your new neighbour, everyone." Haggs called out with a nasty smile. Then she murmured directly into Gadget's ear. "I'm sure they'll be glad to lay eyes on you again. Perhaps they'd like to lay a few other things on you as well, after the turn you did them this morning."

"Who is it?" One of the twins was a faint echo on the edge of Gadget's hearing, coming from the cell at the end of the corridor.

"What do you want?" The other twin's voice was barely audible, coming from the furthest cell in the other direction.

Gadget knew immediately that Haggs had remained dry because she had been the one to take the twins to solitary after what must have been a very short interview with the Warden Phelps. True to her usual form, Haggs had installed the twins at opposite ends of the corridor to ensure there was no chance of them exchanging any words of comfort during their stay, which was likely to be a long one. After the way she had repaid them for their attempt to help her this morning, Gadget had no doubt they would want to lay paws on her.

Haggs seemed disappointed.

"Please. It can't be midnight again already." Bubbles' voice was muffled and indistinct but unmistakable behind the nearest metal door.

"McGee." Haggs smiled. She reached out a long arm and snapped the inspection hatch open. "I've got a little visitor for you. She must like you, she just can't say away."

"Who is it?" Bubbles whispered. One of her eyes became visible through the block of darkness Haggs had opened in the door. When Bubbles saw who Haggs was holding the eye widened and Gadget could see that in the darkness of the cell Bubbles' pupils had grown so big enough to turn her whole eye inky black. "Red? Is that you?"

Haggs shoved Gadget towards the tiny window. "Say hello to your friend. Or goodbye. If the deal she made with me stands up then she'll be out of Shrankshaw before you're back doing laundry."

Haggs had pushed Gadget close enough to window to smell blood from inside the cell. "Bubbles! Are you alright?"

"What? What are you doing here? Leave her out of this, Haggs, she's no good to you –"

"Oh, I think she is. You were willing to take the heat for her, so I think there's plenty of good she can do me. Tomorrow I'm going to check up on a friend she says can identify her. Then, baring the minor miracle that she turns out to actually be Gadget Hackwrench, I'm going to see just how much heat you're willing to let her take before you tell me where your cut is from the palmtops in that warehouse robbery."

Bubbles' single, ink black eye turned back to Gadget. "Couldn't you keep out of trouble for five minutes without me?"

Gadget hung her head. "I'm sorry Bubbles. I guess I couldn't."

"I'm not telling you where my cut is, Haggs. Not for ANYONE." Bubbles told both of them. "That was for my kids."

"I find out your kids get any part of what you made from that robbery and I'll see them in here as accessories after the fact." Haggs vowed and she took Gadget by the arm and dragged her down the corridor to the next cell.

Haggs turned a simple knob on the door and opened the empty cell. Gadget had the briefest glance at the locking mechanism. She took in the fact that there was no knob or handle on the inside of the door and that she would not be able to reach the knob on the outside even if she could get her arm through the observation hatch. Then she saw how dark and dirty the inside of the cell was and recoiled.

Haggs fingers dug deeply into Gadget and the young mouse felt herself being lifted from the ground. Then Haggs threw her through the door and into the oblivion beyond.

"There should be a thimble bucket in there with you. It might still be full from the last tenant. Try not to knock it over or I'll stand over you while you scrub the whole cell spotless from top to bottom... on the day we let you out."

Haggs' voice was brash and bullying but now that Gadget was cloaked in the blackness of the cell the big rat was already losing interest. Out of sight, out of mind, Gadget mused to herself.

She held up a paw. She could see it by the light filtering through the inspection hatch from the corridor. She heard Haggs first few footsteps away and then the all sound of the guard was lost in the distance. A moment later the corridor light went out. Gadget couldn't see her paw any more and even though it was still right in front of her and she had been looking at it less than a second before, she found herself questioning her memory of what it looked like, wondering if the details were accurate.

162

Chip Maplewood, detective and leader of the small but efficient band of do-gooders known as the Rescue Rangers, pulled the brim of his hat down to cover his eyes.

He was trying to look like he was on a case and meant business, but at that moment his chief concern was avoiding eye contact with passing two orderlies, both of whom had black eyes and good cause to remember him from his last visit to the hospital. He hoped that they had forgotten exactly who was to blame for their bruises, but he suspected the capture Brandon the kidnapper would be a thing of hospital legend for years to come.

Just in case the pair still harboured hard feelings, he hid in the shadows under the brim of his fedora and made an effort to look tough until they had passed. When they did pass, it was without giving him a second glance, and he watched their retreating backs with a sigh of relief.

Leaning back against the wall, he turned his thoughts back to Gadget and to the examination that was taking place in the room behind him.

Distracting and tempting though the mental image was and should have been, the thought of Her body being gently and intimately examined just a few inches away from him wasn't enough to keep Chip's thoughts from returning to the case he had been working for the last week.

Dale's right, he thought despairingly, I'm a workaholic. The thought of Dale being right put a sour smile on his face. Just last night Dale had claimed to believe in the old superstition flies could see the dead. Chip had pointed out this was because flies needed dead things for food and sometimes that included people but Dale had not budged from his position. Chip was sure Dale was only like that to annoy him.

Something else Dale had said came back to him. "Gadget sure is different since she came back from hospital. Like she's a different person or something."

Monty had told him to hush up in case she heard and then he had muttered something about her having been through a lot. You'll understand at the right time, he had said. Understand what, Dale had wanted to know?

Chip had been too distracted by the following argument at the time to realise he couldn't have answered Dale's question if he wanted to. Now his ignorance nagged at him like an old injury in bad weather.

Just what did Monty know – or think he knew – that they didn't? Had she told him a story that made sense of it all…?

He wondered because Dale was right about one thing. Gadget sure was different since she came back from the hospital. Almost like she was a different person.

The Gadget who had come back from hospital was a grumbling recluse who seemed to have nightmares every night. Dale had moodily joked that it made her a better match for Chip than ever. Chip had asked if that meant Dale was finally admitting that he didn't stand a chance with her, but neither 'munk's heart had been in the quarrel.

They didn't fight so much since the new Gadget got back from the hospital. At first they had agreed an unspoken truce that having both almost lost her, they would share her for a while at least. But that had passed. Now they just didn't fight over her. Something had gone out of the tree house since Gadget's accident and suddenly it was as if there was nothing to fight over anymore.

This Gadget didn't go nuts trying to explain things to Dale that the simpleminded chipmunk could never understand.

This Gadget didn't rush to tell Chip about the latest advances in forensic science.

This Gadget never seemed to pick up a wrench or a screwdriver because she was too busy practising with her crutches and grumbling to herself when she was alone. Sometimes she grumbled loud enough to be heard outside a closed door and halfway down a hallway.

This Gadget didn't stay up to watch the late night movie with Dale if it was a science-fiction feature.

This Gadget didn't get up early to have a morning cup of coffee with Chip in the peace and calm before Dale got out of bed.

In fact, this Gadget didn't drink coffee at all.

Chip felt the thin wall against his back and knew that on the other side of it someone very beautiful and clever was probably taking off her clothes by now. When the thought didn't make his heart throb the way he was used to he knew something else too. Either he was no longer in love with Gadget Hackwrench, or…

The examining room door opened, startling him before the thought could complete itself.

"You've done an excellent job, Doctor Bell. From what I've seen of your records on her condition when she was brought in, and from what I've seen of her now, I can only say that it's the most remarkable recovery I've seen in years. Of course, Miss Hackwrench always has had a remarkable constitution."

"You're quiet certain…?" Doctor Bell seemed unable to be specific about what he needed Doctor Frisk to clarify.

"Oh, absolutely positive. You've done a first class job, there's no doubt about that." The greying field mouse dropped his voice before continuing but Chip was still, quiet, unnoticed and very close by. "If I sound a little uncertain it's just that, well, I'm an old mouse who should probably be considering retirement, but there was something… nothing medical but something. I can't quite put my finger on it but I would like to see those notes our people sent over. That would help clarify things a little."

"I'm afraid I sent them back the same morning I got them. They weren't any use to us here and I thought at the time that they might be needed back at your hospital. I rather regret that now." The young packrat shook his head.

"You asked me about her blood type earlier…"

"You said you couldn't recall?"

"I can't but I've a feeling it was a negative blood type. Of course, your people tested it and say different, so there you are. I'm getting on and I've just got back from holiday, so it's no wonder my memory is letting me down. "

"Yes… well, a vampire bat should know, I suppose." Doctor Bell seemed to have some doubts.

"Your people know their stuff, I've no doubt about that at all. In fact, I think perhaps it's best you continue treating her, at least, for the time being."

"I appreciate your confidence and your trust, Doctor."

"Not at all, you've earned both of them." Doctor Frisk strode away from the young pack rat.

Chip knew full well that not very long ago Gadget had been the victim of a kidnap attempt in this hospital and that to leave her unguarded while some of the kidnappers were still at large was an act of Dale-sized irresponsibility. At that moment he didn't care, however, because it was more important than anything that he spoke with Doctor Frisk.

He easily out paced the elderly field-mouse before he got half way down the corridor and caught him by the elbow to turn him.

The elderly field mouse raised his eyebrows in anger at the unexpected contact.

"Excuse me, Doctor Frisk." Chip apologized hastily. "But I absolutely had to speak to you about Gadget."

The doctor looked at him through narrowed eyes for a moment, then his expression softened. "Of course, it's Dale, isn't it?"

"Chip. Chip Maplewood of the Rescue Rangers." Chip corrected automatically.

"That's right. Chip. I'm always making that mistake." The field mouse agreed amiably. "I can understand that you're worried about Gadget, especially in her condition."

"I was hoping we could talk about that." Chip said. "Somewhere in private?"

"I hope you appreciate that I'm bound by patient confidentiality." The old mouse said. "In fact, strictly speaking I would suggest that you speak to Doctor Bell. We've agreed that it's best for the time being if he continues treating her."

"I intend to, but it was really your opinion I wanted on something…"

"Really? Ah, well… a private consultation could be a problem. You see this isn't my hospital, so I don't have the right to use any of their facilities and, strictly speaking, I'm still on holiday until after the weekend. Perhaps you could come and see me at St Francis of Assisi on Monday?"

Chip looked pained. He had to ask Doctor Frisk now or he felt like his head would explode. The trouble was that he could already see passers-by taking an interest in the very public consultation he was having in the corridor. "I was kind of hoping to get this out of the way now. I really only need to ask one question."

Doctor Frisk leaned in close and peered at Chip. The chipmunk knew that desperation was showing in his eyes. Finally the field mouse's eyes narrowed and a smile creased his elderly face.

"Ah-ha, Chip, my boy. How about you ride down in the elevator with me and we'll find a quiet bar or café somewhere to have a drink or a bite to eat in? You can ask me your question there and I'll share the benefit of my experience with you."

"That sounds good." Chip agreed.

Doctor Frisk put his hand on Chip's arm and steered him towards the elevator doors. "I remember when I was a young mouse, working as an intern at a field station for pilots out in a pine forest. There was this chipmunk office girl – they didn't let 'em work on the planes or fly them either back then – and she had a walk that could seriously embarrass a young fella for a couple of days…"

This sounded less good, Chip thought to himself. Either the good doctor had seriously misjudged the topic of conversation Chip had in mind or it seemed the price of a private consultation was to listen to a story that would make even Monty's jawbone ache.

Chip looked over his shoulder at the unguarded door to the examining room where Gadget was alone. As if on cue, Monty walked round the corner and began looking for the missing Chip.

"Monty?" Chip called, ignoring the attention it drew. The big mouse caught sight of him instantly. Mouse hearing, Chip remembered, was significantly better on account of mice having ears like satellite dishes on each side of their heads.

Monty caught up with them at the elevator doors and, when he was standing directly in front of Chip, he cast a single significant look back at the unguarded examining room door. Chip pointedly ignored the implied question.

"You and Dale will have to take Gadget back home without me. I'm about to get the benefit of Doctor Frisk's experience and from there I'm probably going straight to prison. With any luck, I'll learn something this time."

Monty considered this dire prophecy. He suspected that Chip was being unduly harsh in his assessment of the value of the good Doctor's experience but the elevator doors closed before he could comment.

163

Margo Haggs walked through one of the darker, deeper parts of the prison. The water had drained quickly from the places closest to the furnace-door gateway to Shrankshaw, but some rooms would probably be under water until drained by inmate bucket-chains. When she entered the storage room where inmates traded their own clothes for prison uniforms, she found the huge room in chaos.

The clothes and belongings of new inmates were sealed into small, human made plastic tubs that had probably been intended for a supermarket delicatessen counter before some enterprising member of the Corrections Department had re-routed them – an act, Haggs reflected, that would probably been seen as theft from a human point of view. A life long connoisseur of irony, the thought brought only the smallest of smiles to her mouth. Perhaps she should bring it up at the next staff meeting just to give the warden or her deputy a sleepless night… it was the sort of moral quandary they would tie themselves in knots over.

Haggs never suffered from lack of moral clarity, in fact she never suffered from morals at all. Patience on the other hand, was something she preyed for daily, if only so she could claim to be religious. She knew, for instance, that she didn't have the patience to open every single plastic tub in the storeroom looking for the one that contained Red's ruined dress, cheap shoes and assorted knickknacks.

The tub should have been shelved according to Red's date of induction and stacked in alphabetical order along with those of the inmates who had been inducted with her, each one clearly labelled and sealed to prove that nothing had been stolen. Unfortunately whoever had come up with the idea of using the plastic tubs for storage because they were waterproof hadn't considered the possibility that they might come into contact with enough water to actually FLOAT. They hadn't extended their genius to supplying a waterproof pen that could write the inmate's name on the side of the tub, either.

The mouse-made flood had reached to the height of a full-grown squirrel; it had turned the neat stacks of sealed and labelled ordinary lives into a random logjam piled up on top of one and other around the doors. Haggs took one look at the mess and knew it would take weeks to restore order. Every tub would have to be opened for the contents to be identified. If they were lucky there would some identification inside the tub when they opened it. If they were unlucky, they would have to go around the whole prison asking people "Is this your dress? Is this your handbag?"

Haggs doubted that anyone would claim Darla's genuine 1960's mini-skirt and kinky boots (The mental image of how Shrankshaw's oldest inmate would look on her release day sent a momentary chill up Haggs' spine). But they'd just have to take a lot of people's word for it when they said that the gold necklace and antique jade broach were theirs but the dress didn't fit because they'd put on weight, shocking diet they got in here, shocking…

Her deal with Red could be damned. She wasn't going to spend the next week going through this place to find a dress that might well have been thrown out after being contaminated by human sewage. If she went through these tubs at all it would be while supervising an inmate work party with two or three light-fingered types she could quietly confiscate things from later.

Haggs forced the storeroom door closed again and turned her back on any chance of Red seeing daylight before, given the warden's current feelings on the subject, she had forgotten what it looked like.

A cruel smile creased her lips. She would enjoy telling Red that she had been hoisted by her own petard, which, if you didn't know what petard meant, was pretty close to what Haggs was thinking of doing to the blonde the next time she saw her.

She was about to head off to the guard's changing room before going home when it struck her that there was one item belonging to Red which hadn't been placed in the tub ready for her to reclaim on her release, because it had been illegal.

The lock-pick.

Haggs hesitated. She remembered taking it and putting it in the contraband locker while she fumed at Marion Cedar for over-ruling her decision to make Red's induction search up close and personal. If she hadn't been so angry she might have remembered to put it to one side for later. It might be what she needed to finally open the warden's filing cabinet and get at her personnel file.

Of course, she had already decided to go home for the day. Her shift was over and if she pushed her luck by hanging around too long, someone would ask her to stay and help clear up after the flood. She'd have to get the key for the contraband box from the guardroom, where it was kept for safety, which would be a pain.

Haggs stood poised halfway between going home and going to get the key from the guardroom so she could look for the lock-pick.

The white rat sighed deeply and shook her head. She hated herself for being indecisive more than she hated that blond troublemaker for wasting her time and turning HER prison upside-down. Then she set off to the guardroom, hoping that no one would see her, especially not anyone who needed help doing anything.

The guardroom was an almost circular booth built into the top of a T-junction formed by three corridors, each one leading to a different part of the prison. The thick, curved, tinted glass that wrapped around the top half of the booth had been cut directly from a large human made glass bottle. The lower half of the booth was plaster over chicken wire. The only way in or out of the booth was the door in the wall behind the glass, which actually opened onto a corridor that accessed the parts of the prison where no inmates were allowed to go. This included the guard's locker room, the office where the spare keys for the whole prison and the guard's personnel records were kept, the visitor's lounge and the visitors half of the visiting room. The booth was deserted, which it shouldn't have been, but it saved lying about why she wanted the key.

Haggs walked back to the induction room with the key to the contraband box over one shoulder like woodsman carrying an axe. The contraband box itself was a big red metal cash box of human manufacture and stood upright at one end of the induction room like a wardrobe or a cupboard. Strictly speaking she needed the presence of two officers to open it but the regulation was widely regarded as a joke by the prison staff, who occasionally put their lunches in there for "safe keeping".

She opened the box with both hands and stood back to survey the contents. Contraband, in Shrankshaw, meant everything from cigarettes and lipstick to weapons of mass destruction. The box was almost full and it was nearly time for a clearout. For a moment Haggs couldn't see the lock-pick she had come for. Then a thin sliver of silver caught her eye and she plucked the lock pick off the shelf and held it up to the light with a rueful smirk.

What a ridiculous waste of time the whole thing had been, Haggs thought to herself! Did she really expect someone to pipe up: "Why yes, I of course I recognise that lock-pick. It's the one I got her so she could burglarise that nice shop at the end of the road."

Haggs almost laughed at her own foolishness. Red was good, very, very good in fact. It was no wonder she had managed to get across the whole country pretending to be Gadget Hackwrench. She was so convincing, with that whole spiel of techno-babble that probably didn't mean anything and that a poor, stupid prison guard certainly wouldn't remember well enough to check up on later.

Haggs turned the lock pick over.

Assuming there turned out to be a "Jennifer Talbert-Hall" who lived where Red said she did, then Jen would turn out to be some stooge who had recently moved in under the name of the witness who had helped to convict the ingenious confidence-trickster. No doubt the stooge would be primed with some elaborate tale that would have the poor stupid prison guard racing to release the entirely innocent Red with sincere apologies. It was a scam, just like it had always been with Red, and she had almost fallen for it.

Haggs shook her head and allowed her rueful smile to become cruel. She ought to go straight back to the solitary cell where she had left Red and shove this lock pick right up – Haggs' right eyeball twitched, just once.

On the underside of the slim piece of metal the letters "G. H." were engraved in tiny angular letters.

164

Prison Officer Margo Haggs found herself standing on a stranger's doorstep in a part of town she didn't know. She could ring the doorbell or she could go home and forget about it.

At the very least, she could go back to visit Red tomorrow and make Red tell her something that would make spending the time to go through all those tubs sound worth while. After all, the letters G. H. could stand for anything, anything at all. Admittedly she couldn't think of anything except the word Gadget and the word Hackwrench right now, but that was Red's fault for pretending she was Gadget Hackwrench again.

Haggs shook her head. If she could prove that Red was lying, she would come up with a punishment so terrible that tales of it would be told to frighten new inmates; something that, for the moment, even she could not imagine.

She was being indecisive again. What was better, to ring the bell and be taken for a sucker, or to go home in the near certain knowledge that tomorrow she would make her way back to this same spot and stand there with the same doubts in her mind?

Better to get it over with. She was still wearing her uniform; she had elected not to change because a uniform would elicit trust in a law-abiding citizen and fear in a criminal. She did not want to walk home in her own clothes two days running because it increased the risk that her neighbours might find out what she did for a living. Margo Haggs didn't have very many friends and she didn't think that advertising that she was a prison guard would help much. She reached out to knock.

The door opened.

"Oh!" exclaimed a young white mouse who was clearly about to go out for the evening.

"General Hardware." Haggs heard herself say, for no apparent reason.

The white mouse stared at her in confusion.

Haggs swallowed. "Excuse me, are you Jennifer Talbert-Hall?"

A minute or so later she was sitting in the white mouse's living room with a cup of English tea balanced on her knee. Haggs felt awkward, as she did in most informal social situations, but the mouse seemed honest and friendly enough.

"I honestly didn't think that I'd be getting any kind of follow up visits from anyone after the trial…" the young mouse was saying.

"I think there may be a mistake…" Haggs tried to judge how to play this. She was skilled in deception, but any false impression she gave might have to be justified later, depending on how the mouse answered the questions she was about to put to her.

"You're not from the court?" Jennifer seemed puzzled.

"Perhaps it would be easier if I just asked the questions and got out of your hair. I can see you were on your way out. Or I could arrange another time and come back tomorrow, perhaps?" Haggs would have been almost grateful for the excuse to leave.

"Oh, don't worry about it. I was about to start my shift as a waitress at the club round the corner." Her host replied with an airy smile.

"Your boss won't want you to be late."

"My boss isn't in this week."

"I see." Haggs felt trapped and hated it. She forced herself to be business like. "This may seem odd, but are you the same Jennifer Talbert-Hall who gave evidence at the trial of the impostor who claimed to be Gadget Hackwrench?"

"Yes, I was there. Her lawyer wanted me to testify for the defence." Jennifer looked unhappy about something.

"Is something wrong?" Haggs probed. For a moment she thought the white mouse was going to jump up and exclaim that she had made a terrible mistake and sent the real Gadget Hackwrench to jail. It was, if this was a con-job, exactly what Haggs would have expected.

"Nothing – it's just that I still don't know how they could have gotten my address. Not many people know that I know Gadget Hackwrench." Jen smiled.

"You don't boast about knowing a Rescue Ranger?" Haggs faked surprise. The claim that Jennifer – if that was her name – didn't want to capitalize on her relationship with a Rescue Ranger rang false.

"This will seem silly, but my mother was on the stage and I always expected to follow in her footsteps. Now I'm a waitress and Gadget is, well, famous." Jennifer shrugged sheepishly.

"I see. Perhaps her lawyer looked your address up somewhere." Haggs suggested.

Jennifer laughed and gestured to the mouse-sized apartment around her. "I'm hardly likely to be in the phone book. It's not like I'm human."

"Of course not." Haggs agreed, understanding completely. She didn't have a phone either, though there were public ones at her local library and, of course, the ones at the prison. "Do you know Ms Hackwrench well? Well enough to identify her?"

"We're almost sisters. In fact, we would have been if my Mum and her dad hadn't split up." Jennifer sighed, contemplating what might have been.

Haggs didn't know what to say. She forced herself to be businesslike. "You would have spotted the impostor pretty quickly then, if you had come across her yourself, I mean?"

"I think so. I saw her in the courtroom, from a distance. She was wearing a very plain, formal dress. Gadget seldom wears dresses unless she really wants to make an impression, when she really dresses up like a bombshell and she has light peach fur instead of dark tan. Not to mention her hair..."

"I thought the real Gadget Hackwrench was a blonde?" Haggs asked without thinking.

"She is, sort of."

Haggs shook her head, not understanding.

"Bottled blonde, usually," Jennifer explained, "but not by much because she's a strawberry blonde anyway. Gadget wanted to change her appearance the day she was hijacked."

"Why?"

"She told me it was because she wanted to make it harder for someone to impersonate her. Can't dress like her if they don't know what she's wearing, right? But I think the real reason was that one of the fraudsters victims mistook her for the impostor and they had a run in. It upset her and I think she was afraid of being recognised because of all the rumours."

"Terrible, what this fraud did to everyone." Haggs probed to see where Jen's sympathies lay.

"That reminds me! The impostor's hair was too dark to be Gadget's normal colour and too light to be the dye job I gave her. I dyed her hair auburn and the impostor's hair was red." Jennifer looked Haggs in the eye. "I think it's your turn to explain your interest. I've been more than reasonably helpful so far and you've been asking some very personal things about a friend of mine."

"Could you identify something that I think might belong to Gadget?" Haggs asked. She dug into her purse hurriedly, before Jennifer could throw her out and leave her more confused than ever. She brought out the lock-pick.

Jennifer looked at it sceptically, then at Haggs with equal scepticism.

"It's not hers?" Haggs almost pleaded.

"Well, how would I know?" Jennifer asked. "She has so many tools."

"Yes, of course she does." Haggs gave a long sigh and settled back in the chair. Perhaps she would have to go through the debris in the personal effects storeroom after all.

"It's a nice steel whatever-it-is though." Jen remarked absently. "She usually marks those with her initials."

Haggs dropped her teacup.

165

After Jennifer had finished mopping up the tea and Haggs had finished apologising, Jennifer looked at her up at her with a twinkle in her eye and said: "You know, I think I can identify that item for you."

"Really?" Haggs' voice had a despairing note in it. The truth seemed inevitable.

"Yes. It's a lock pick."

Haggs stared at her. It took a moment to register that Jen might genuinely have taken this long to identify the tool since because wasn't a prison guard and another moment to determine that Jen was in fact gently poking fun at her. The white rat swallowed her temper and vowed to make any stay Jen made behind bars memorable.

"Can you tell if it's hers?" Haggs enquired as sweetly as she found possible.

Jen picked up the lock pick and examined it. "Yes. There are her initials at the end: G. H."

Fingerprints were unreliable as evidence where small animals were concerned, Haggs noted regretfully. She would be unable to leave that lock-pick somewhere where a detective would take an interest and guarantee an opportunity to return Jen's hospitality at Shrankshaw. There was always the option of simply beating the white mouse to death in her own living room but she knew from the people she met on a daily basis that one rodent slaying another, particularly indoors, attracted dangerous amounts of crime fighter interest.

"You're quite sure that they couldn't stand for anything else?" Haggs asked without much hope. "Is the lettering in the same style she uses?"

"There aren't many people who have the engraving tools to etch lettering this small in steel." Jen pointed out. "Besides, I think I've seen her with this one. She used to keep it tied to her tail in case someone tried locking her up."

Haggs groaned but held on to the slim hope she could prove Jen a liar. "What reason would Gadget Hackwrench have to expect that?"

Jen looked uncomfortable. "Someone called Rat Capone captured some of the rangers and kept them as slaves, once. I understand they were only used for manual labour until they escaped but Gadget doesn't talk about it. I don't even know if she was one of the ones taken captive."

"I see." Haggs subsided, much like a volcano that had decided not to bury everyone in lava after all.

"And now I'm afraid I'll have to throw you out. I really will be late for work if I don't make a start." Jen stood from where she had been mopping up the tea. "I don't even know your name or how you got hold of my friend's lock pick. By rights, I should be very suspicious of you." Jen looked at the rat fearlessly, as though she wasn't head and shoulders shorter than the stranger who was perched on the edge of her largest armchair as though it was a three legged milking stool.

Haggs grunted and stood, but kept her head low to avoid hitting the light fixture. "I don't suppose you could explain how your friend's lock pick happened to be in the hands of a dangerous criminal?"

"They must have stolen it I suppose."

Haggs' jaw dropped.

"Are you all right?" Jen asked.

Was she all right? The lock pick was stolen, Red wasn't Gadget Hackwrench, there wasn't going to be a scandal and, most importantly of all, Margo Haggs was still going to be the top dog in Shrankshaw Prison! Haggs threw her head back to laugh and hit her head on the lampshade hard enough to knock her peaked cap off.

"Oh my! That must have hurt!" Jen fussed, offering the retrieved hat to her injured guest.

"No, not at all." Haggs laughed and oddly, she meant it. "I don't know why I didn't think of that myself. I must be having a bad day."

"First the tea and now the lampshade; I'd say not." Jen agreed.

"No, I mean… Oh, never mind. Look, here's the lock-pick. Please give it to your friend Ms Hackwrench when you next see her and ask her to keep better care of it from now on. Such things can cause a great deal of trouble if they fall into the wrong hands. We could have had a jail break, in fact."

"Jail break?" Jen looked alarmed. "What's this about?"

"It doesn't matter now." Haggs waved her paw and sounded genuinely grateful. "You've taken a great weight off my mind."

"Hmm. Glad I could help." Jen surveyed her mopping up operations critically. She looked up at the Swatch that hung from her wall and yelped. " Good Lord! Is that the time? You've kept me talking an age! I'm dreadfully sorry but I have to go now. Was there anything else you wanted to ask me?"

Haggs shook her head. "No, I don't think so. You've answered all my questions as helpfully as any good citizen could."

Jen put the tea things and the cloth she had been mopping up with to one side. She gathered up a scarf and handbag and put on a nice but inexpensive coat. Haggs got the door in a rare moment of helpfulness and they left the apartment together.

"I wish I knew what this was about." Jen said as she locked her front door. "Gadget's sure to ask and you said a dangerous criminal was involved. What dangerous criminal?"

"The one who was impersonating your friend over half the country." Haggs told her as they started down the hall to the main entrance.

"Oh, her! I think her exploits are a bit exaggerated to tell you the truth. The rangers aren't that well known out state, from what I can tell, except in the places where they've visited."

Haggs began to feel awkward. The interview was over but they were both leaving by the same corridor, walking side by side. When they got to the front door, it was possible that they would both turn in the same direction again, depending on where Jen's bar was. Silence would be embarrassing but Haggs had never been good at small talk. To escape both, she asked an idle question.

"What did you think of her, at the trial?"

"To be honest, I wasn't really thinking straight at the time." Jen recalled. "I got the news about Gadget being in hospital, on her deathbed as they thought at the time, literally two minutes before this messenger from the defence turned up asking me to identify some drunk that was picked up in a bar fight as Gadget Hackwrench."

"Shocking." Haggs said after a few paces of silence. "Does she really look that much like Ms Hackwrench? I only ask because, in most cases of identity theft, the thief is usually nothing like the original person."

"To tell you the truth, I'd been crying a lot so I wasn't wearing my glasses. I couldn't even get a good look at her."

Haggs hesitated mid-stride as something Red had said earlier pricked at her memory. Red had known Jennifer wore glasses even though she hadn't worn them in court. It meant nothing but the pristine certainty that Haggs had been enjoying so much was marked by the memory and Haggs wanted to wipe that mark away. Perhaps if she asked the right question – it shouldn't be difficult, she berated herself – then Jen would rule out the last shred of possibility that an appalling miscarriage of justice had taken place and Haggs would be freed from the dreadful seed of doubt and uncertainty that Red had planted in her mind.

"I hope you told her what you thought of her." Haggs tried to make it sound as casual as possible.

"I didn't really care to be honest. I just wanted to get out of there and visit Gadget. Of course, they wouldn't let me because I'm not family. I never regretted that Mum didn't tie the knot with Geegaw so much, I can tell you."

They came to the exit onto the shrubbery that ran along the sidewalk outside the building where Jen's apartment complex was hidden.

"I tell you what," Haggs suggested desperately, "I'll walk you to the bar. I'd love to ask a couple more questions and if you need to make excuses for being late, we can say it's because of official business."

"I'm sure it won't be necessary but if you want to." Jen consented.

Haggs muttered something about it being no trouble and allowed Jen to lead the way. "So, she doesn't look anything like Gadget then? You could put the two of them next to each other and no one would have any difficulty telling them apart?"

"Actually, I think they might be pretty close except for the fur and hair colouring. The girl at the trial was a redhead and had the dusky fur to go with it. Gadget has always had the peach fur that you can see her blush through. She was wearing a dress, which Gadget doesn't normally do, and it wasn't the little red one I loaned her. It was a rather conservative one that looked a little too big for her. I think Gadget would be taller and she has lighter fur and hair. That was about it from where I was sitting."

Haggs walked alongside the white mouse. She had gone from agonised confusion to the stone cold certainty that Gadget Hackwrench currently resided within the solitary confinement cells of Shrankshaw Prison. Jen had restored her world to rights with the reassuring knowledge that Red was a convincing confidence-artist. Now a few casual words put Haggs back where she started. The only thing Haggs knew clearly was she wasn't going to suffer this any more. Doubt was an alien thing to her; it made her feel helpless and blind and had caused her more stress in the last few hours than anything she could remember since the first day she wore a uniform.

"Have you seen Ms. Hackwrench since the accident? I mean," she went on hurriedly, "since her lock pick has turned up with the impostor and you didn't get a good look at her at the trial, you can see why I'd be asking."

Jen stopped dead and stared with a horrified expression. Then she started laughing. "I don't believe it! Even behind bars, with everyone knowing she's been convicted of impersonating Gadget Hackwrench, she's still got you thinking she's the real thing." Jen shook her head in disbelief.

Haggs hated being laughed at. She was good at masking her true feelings and intentions until she had the upper hand, though.

"Yes, quite ridiculous, I know." she joined in the laughter. "We have to be thorough, you understand. Investigate every little claim to make sure. You'd want us to do the same if you ever came to be wrongly convicted of a crime."

Jen heard an edge in the white rat's voice and her own laughter faded. "As a matter of fact, I was at her welcome home party, just a couple of weeks ago."

Haggs smile broadened. "Really? And you spoke to her? So there's really no uncertainty?"

Jen shook her head, increasingly uncomfortable. Something was very wrong somewhere, but couldn't say where. "None at all. She recognised me. Her friends had redone her hair so she was blonde again, and she wasn't herself after the accident because of the head injury but it was her."

Haggs sighed in relief. "And here's the bar."

"Come on in and have a drink." Jen invited. Someone else had already unlocked. Perhaps she would need the official looking rat to make excuses for her after all.

Haggs hesitated. She wanted to leave Jen before she turned the world upside down again with another innocent remark but she had promised and Jen had implied the drink was free so Haggs followed Jen through the door. A burly brown rat working behind the bar caught Haggs' eye as she entered. He nodded and for a moment, before she realised the rat was addressing Jen, Haggs was ready to flutter her eyelids and smile back.

"Someone was waiting for you." The rat said and tipped his nose towards a chipmunk sitting at the back of the bar, away from the few regular barflies who had already arrived for the evening.

Jen squinted into the gloom. She really did need to wear her glasses more often.

The chipmunk leaned forward into the light so she could see his face. "Hello Jennifer. Gadget says hi, by the way."

Haggs blinked. She knew she had seen this chipmunk somewhere before but for the moment couldn't place him.

"Hello Chip." Jen said. She didn't sound like she had been expecting the chipmunk. To the rat she said: "This lady came by my apartment to ask me a few questions, Ben, so I'm a little late. Did anyone miss me?"

The rat laughed. "No, no one's going to tell on you when Charlie gets back."

The barflies – some of them were really flies – laughed.

"Yeah, you guys can keep a secret." Jen dripped sarcasm. "Chip, you mind waiting on me for a minute or two? I have to do something out back. Oh – say, Charlie, give this nice lady a drink on the house. She gave me some lost property, belongs to a friend of mine."

"I –" was all Chip had time to say before Jen disappeared into the back of the bar. He sighed dug his paws deep into his pockets.

Chip Maplewood, the leader of the Rescue Rangers and the hardest detective in the city was standing right in front of her, not six inches away. He was as tough and uncompromising as she was, by all accounts, and here to talk to Jen, which would lead him to work out the reason for HER visit by a fairly short route.

Haggs gaped at him for two seconds before realising that he was looking back at her from under the shadowy brim of his hat. She quickly turned her back and stood at the bar.

Regardless of whether Gadget Hackwrench had spent the last two months recuperating from an air crash with her loved ones or being falsely imprisoned and abused in Shrankshaw Prison, Chip Maplewood was unlikely to react well to the part Margo Haggs had played in the melodrama.

"What it'll be, Ma'am?" The brown rat behind the bar asked.

The smart thing to do would be to say she wasn't thirsty and leave. Instead she asked for a beer. She didn't drink normally, she'd seen too many other people who did and been disgusted by their weakness. She only asked now because she knew that if she didn't the chipmunk would take it to mean she had something to hide and was running from him. She would have to brazen it out, explain everything he might find out from Jen about her visit, without appearing to look like she was trying to explain herself at all and in a way that implied she was just doing her job without actually making any false claims that could come back to haunt her if he checked up on them later.

Nothing to it, right?

Yeah, right, she told herself.

"I'll have a beer." She said.

The brown rat tapped a bottle of Budwiser that hung from the ceiling and plonked a glass down in front of her. It looked strangely tempting, in her current circumstances.

"I'll have the same." A voice said from beside her.

As an opening gambit, it was almost deliberately understated, Haggs thought. She looked sideways at him from under her peaked cap, knowing that the peak would shadow her eyes just as the brim of Chip's fedora concealed his. She wasn't sure but she suspected he was doing the same to her. He was shorter than her, but there was no missing that muscle tone under the chipmunk's well-groomed fur. She automatically assessed how much trouble he could give her in a fight and with some satisfaction decided that she could probably take him, one on one, if only because of the size advantage being a rat gave her.

The bar tender gave Chip his beer, then threw a bar towel over one shoulder and retreated to the far end of the bar where he began cleaning glasses industriously while carefully not looking at the two customers he had just served.

Neither of them said anything. Haggs drank some of her beer. Chip just looked at his.

The silence grew. Haggs became aware of the bar flies watching them. As she noticed them, Chip acknowledged them with a slight tilt of the head, and the drunks and soon-to-be-drunks turned their backs and began to ignore them with the same deliberate, practiced attitude that Ben, the bartender, had already demonstrated.

Haggs wondered at what point saying nothing at all would in itself be a suspicious act. She scowled. He had spoken first. If they followed the conventional pattern of conversation that would mean it was her turn to speak. What would be a good response to his opening gambit…?

"I notice you know Jen?" He interrupted her thoughts.

She looked him openly now. "Sure." She replied. "Have you known her long, yourself?" She kept her voice light and casual.

"We have a mutual acquaintance." Chip replied without answering.

The mutual acquaintance would be Gadget Hackwrench, naturally, but did Haggs want to admit knowing that? A non-committal answer seemed best. "Really?"

"Have you?"

Nice return, Haggs thought as she stalled for time. "Have I what?"

"Known Jennifer long?"

Long enough to know that people who know her well don't call her "Jennifer" Haggs thought and mentally deducted a point or two from Chip's scorecard. "Met her for the first time today."

"Oh?" Chip smiled and tipped back his hat, making good eye contact.

Haggs used getting another mouthful of beer to look away and stall for time. This was getting tricky. She had already been forced into one more admission than she wanted to make and he was trying to keep things friendly, which meant she couldn't be unfriendly without appearing suspicious. She needed something to get him off her back fast and she wasn't afraid to fight dirty. Looking back at him she enquired casually: "Do you hit on all her friends?"

Chip choked on his beer, blowing froth across the bar.

Haggs smiled in satisfaction and rewarded herself with another sip of beer.

"I wasn't hitting on you!" Chip protested. "I was just making conversation!"

"I bet you say that to all the girls." Haggs cooed.

"Seriously, I was just – " Chip caught himself.

"Yes?" Haggs feigned innocence, or at least ignorance.

"Nothing. Look, seriously I just came to ask Jennifer some questions, that's all."

"Why? Are you investigating her?"

"What? Why would you think that?"

"You're a detective, aren't you?"

"Chip Maplewood, of the Rescue Rangers." He announced proudly. "But how did you know I was a detective?"

The question could have tripped her up if the truth hadn't provided such a convenient answer. "We've met before."

Chip seemed surprised then rolled his eyes. "Of course, your uniform. I met you last month when I visited the Gadget-impersonator in Shrankshaw."

Haggs nodded and took another sip of beer. She had almost finished the glass and would be able to leave in a minute or so, confident that she had won the exchange hands down.

"Hey, wait a minute, there's a connection there. I can't figure out what though..." Chip was holding his head on one side.

Haggs couldn't stop herself from grimacing. She finished her beer before Chip could make too much progress with his thoughts.

"You know Jennifer AND the impostor." Chip realised. He looked at her haltingly, as if suddenly unsure whether he had been outclassed or very clever.

"I have to go now." Haggs resisted the temptation to leave at a run.

"No, wait. Let me get you another beer." Chip allowed a paw to stray to her arm.

"I thought you weren't hitting on me?" Haggs let herself snarl at the touch.

"I'm not. You must realise that as a detective I get very curious when I find a link between the victim and the perpetrator of a crime. As a prison officer, I'm sure you will want to uphold the law."

"As a Rescue Ranger, I'm sure you realise that means that if I have any information relevant to a crime I SHOULD go to the Street Watch, a judge or police officer commissioned by an elected representative. Which are you?" Haggs quipped, knowing full well the rangers were a volunteer search and rescue group funded by the Rescue Aid Society, a body made up of appointed, not elected, representatives.

"We Rangers work closely with law enforcement, who appreciate that people who do not cooperate with us often chose not to do so because they have something to hide." Chip replied automatically, having heard similar but less informed versions of this speech many times before.

"Are you suggesting I have something to hide?" Haggs enquired, stone-faced. She was making him put his cards on the table and she knew it, but at least this way she knew what she was facing.

Chip looked away and tried to laugh it off. "Sorry, force of habit. You have no idea how often we've heard that speech."

Haggs turned away.

"Wait! Look, you have to admit I'd be a pretty useless detective if I didn't take an interest in you knowing one of Gadget's friends as well as the impostor."

Haggs looked at him. She could have respected his skills as a detective more if he had been interested because she was acting like she had something to hide. "I met Jen for the first time today, like I told you. I met the impostor through my job, after she was convicted. If you're suggesting I have anything to do with her crimes… well, I will point out that there's someone in this bar who knew all three people; Jen, Red the impostor AND Gadget Hackwrench."

Chip leaned close, eyes interested. "Who?"

She tapped him on the nose with a finger. "You!"

Chip rocked back on his heels and looked chagrined. "Ya got me." He admitted. "I've been acting like a perfect idiot since I came up to you and frankly, I'm not sure I could truthfully say I haven't been acting like an idiot for sometime before that." He looked up at her sheepishly. "Can I get you that beer I offered as an apology?"

Haggs licked her lips and tasted victory. "I'm not sure I'd want Jen to tell her friend, Gadget, that you've been chatting up off duty prison officers in her bar."

"My interest is strictly professional, I assure you."

Haggs was about to crush him dismissively when she remembered the girlish glee Warden Phelps and Marion Cedar had both tried to conceal at the prospect of being visited by the leader of the Rescue Rangers. Perhaps she could mention this casually over a coffee break to torment them. "I'd be delighted."

Chip ordered another couple of beers from Ben, who gave up his pretence of not eavesdropping their conversation and began to collect empties and get refills for the other customers. They sat on a couple of barstools quietly while Haggs drank her beer.

"Thank you for that." She said with unaccustomed warmth.

"You're welcome." Chip brushed it aside. "I just wish I had found something a little less distracting. Normally when you find a connection like that it'll bust a case wide open but I guess this just one of those screwy coincidences you come across."

Haggs nodded, having seen her share of them.

"I'm not making any headway with this case at all…" he murmured, almost too low for her to hear.

"I take it you're trying to round up the remaining members of the impostor's gang?"

"No, last we heard they were headed to Europe. Even if we caught up with them, we don't know they've broken any rules over there and the authorities might not be so keen to give them back."

"But you're still investigating the impostor?"

"No, others are handling that. It was felt the victims might not respond well to a second lot of strangers claiming to be Rescue Rangers turning up on their doorsteps. The Rescue Aid Society is still getting compensation claims from all over the country. Some of them are probably fraudulent. We're still going to be untangling the stray threads by the time your star inmate is released." Chip rested his elbows on the bar and propped up his chin in his cupped paws.

"Then you were paying Jen a social call?"

"Ah-ha. She's a lovely girl, but no. I came to ask her some questions."

Haggs leaned in close. "You suspect her of aiding the impostor? That's why my being a link between them interested you?"

Red had claimed that Jen would identify her as the real Gadget. Jen claimed to have known Gadget from early childhood and sounded genuine about it. That meant Jen had the kind of inside knowledge that would make a convincing imitation of Gadget possible.

It was so clear now: Jen, an old intimate of Gadget Hackwrench had renewed a long dead acquaintance in order to gain information that could be used by the now clearly lying and desperate Red – whoever she really was – to carry out a string of daring frauds. The early, trial runs would be in remote communities where there were likely to be fewer complications and would fund the last big job – whatever that was – right here in the city where the Rangers were best known, after Red had worked the bugs out of her act. The whole thing probably would have worked if Red had been less unstable.

Haggs smiled and cracked her knuckles. Perhaps she would indeed have the pleasure of the white mouse's company. Suddenly cooperating with the detective seemed like a good idea after all.

Chip seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "I grant you it's a possibility. From what I gather Jen and Gadget were really close a long time ago and Jen only came back into Gadget's life a few months ago… just around the time we now know the impostor first struck. On the other side of the country, though, now that I think of it."

Haggs sniffed. "It's not impossible. The humans manage to stay in touch over such distances, with their phones and what-do-you-call-it, inter-web?"

"Internet. World-wide-web." Chip told her. "Yeah, they can do it, we can do it, but it's a human system and you need human money to pay for it. They could steal a mobile phone maybe, but you'd need human money to pay for the calls and special microphones and speakers to hook up to them because they're designed for the human voice. Besides, from what I can tell, the information this gang had about the rangers wasn't that good or that up to date. If Jen was helping them I think they could have done a lot better."

Haggs reflected on whether it was time to tell Chip that Red actually knew Jen and had claimed Jen could identify her as the real Gadget. Soon Red and Bubbles might have an extra bunk in their pleasantly un-crowded cell and Red and Jen would be able to renew their acquaintance. Haggs smiled at the thought of reuniting them and how "happy" they would be to see each other. Perhaps she could arrange for someone to take bets for her on who would kill who. Yes, this would be the perfect time to tell him. Haggs opened her mouth to do just that, and bring Jen's life crashing down.

"Hey, I don't want you to get the wrong idea." Chip said. "I didn't come here to go investigating Jen 'cause I think she's up to no good. From what I can tell, she's a good girl even if the timing of her arrival was suspicious. As a matter of fact, and you'll think I'm crazy when I tell you this, I came here to ask questions about Gadget."

Haggs closed her mouth again. Her survival instincts were suddenly screaming at her. She composed her face into an expression of polite willingness to listen and waited for him to explain. "Yes?"

"Yes. Gadget. Ah, now does that sound crazy or what? Me! The leader of the Rescue Rangers, investigating my own… my own team members."

For a moment, Haggs had thought Chip was about to describe Gadget in a way that had nothing to do with him being Gadget's boss. Part of her wanted to steer the conversation back to Jen and the white mouse's almost certain destruction under the merciless wheels of justice, but if she did that she would lose all chance to find out what Chip had come here to investigate which she wanted to know very badly, since it could have a serious impact on her future as a free rat.

"I understand it's sometimes easier to talk to strangers. I'd be happy to give you an objective opinion." Haggs offered in her friendliest manner. It still sounded cold and formal.

"It's nice of you to offer."

"No trouble at all."

"It's just…" Chip hung his head. He was clearly wrestling with an enormous problem that he didn't know how to handle. "I just came from a meeting with Gadget's regular doctor, who treated me to long completely un-asked for discourse on inter-species relationships, based on his personal experiences from his youth. Why he should think I would find such a lecture useful, or enlightening, I can't imagine." Chip stressed the last point with added emphasis.

Haggs contemplated this without finding the slightest clue what it meant.

"Go on." She told him, sagely.

"It's just that since Gadget's accident, when I thought she was going to die or be brain damaged or something, I've been besides myself for not… including her more."

"Including her how? As a part of your team?"

"Including her… in the plans I've been making. For the future."

"I see." Haggs said significantly. She hadn't got the faintest clue what he was talking about.

"But since the accident, well, she's just not herself. I mean we all admire her spirit. The doctors weren't sure she'd be able to walk again without crutches, but she just started learning to walk with them the week she came home and it was like she was planning to get up and run a marathon or something. But she's not the Gadget we know and… care for. She doesn't touch her inventions and they were all she used to live for. She doesn't babble at high speed about technical details no one else could possibly understand or care about. She still smiles all the time but it's not the old smile, this one is forced and something hidden behind it. She doesn't even drink coffee any more. Even her voice has changed. I just don't feel the same way as I used to – about having her on the team, I mean – in fact, I feel as if I'm living with a stranger."

Margo Haggs felt her right eyeball twitch, just as it had when she had seen the initials engraved on the lock-pick.

"Are you alright?" Chip asked.

"Fine." Haggs lied. Red was Gadget Hackwrench after all. If this kept up her head would explode. "Can you think of anything to explain the change?"

"Well, an air crash can shake anyone up and head injuries can change someone's personality in unpredictable ways. Her forced manner could just be her trying to hide her pain from the rest of us. She's had a hard time of it. As for her voice, someone did try to strangle her, but that was three weeks ago." Chip finished his second beer and smacked his lips. "I'm looking for another explanation. I haven't quiet worked it out yet, but I will. It's like I can see the answer out of the corner of my eye. It's on the tip of my brain."

Haggs began massaging her temples. "Are you planning on visiting that mouse-girl in Shrankshaw again?"

"Yes, actually. Her identity has never been clear and I want to pin it down. I suspected a girl called Lawhiney, who impersonated Gadget once before, of committing the crimes but I'm still waiting for confirmation that she's missing from the last place she was being held."

"When did you send for it?"

"Two months ago, by pigeon post. Cost me my body weight in corn and I'm still waiting for a reply."

"Two months! Where was she being held?"

"Hawaii, actually. The other side of the county."

Haggs considered. "Fits in well with where the crimes started."

"I know. The reply should arrive any day now, assuming that my letter actually got there. I wanted to ask you, by the way, when I visited the prison, was the impostor gagged or drugged at all? I couldn't get a word out of her and yet she seemed desperate to tell me something."

Haggs hesitated. There was no point in lying; it would only raise his suspicions. "Yes, I gagged her before your visit. I didn't know what kind of visitor she was expecting and I was concerned."

"Concerned?"

"Some prisoners use appalling language with the intent to offend or shock, others spit or try to bite." It was perfectly true that some did and, without actually lying, she had just given the impression that Red was one of them. "Tell me, is your investigation of our prisoner linked to your – Shall we call them concerns? Yes – your concerns about Gadget Hackwrench?"

Chip hesitated. "They could be. Yes. I suppose it's always possible." He sat stiffly in silence for a moment then asked: "You said that you gagged the prisoner because of her language…"

"I said I gagged her because I was concerned. All I knew was that we had a VIP coming to look at her. I didn't know she was going to be asked questions." Haggs pointed out carefully.

"I'm thinking of seeing her again. To see if I can settle the question of her identity." Chip looked at her carefully. He was watching for a reaction, Haggs hadn't the slightest doubt.

"I'll know better next time you visit but she's in solitary right now. I'm afraid she instigated a riot this morning and caused a great deal of damage to the prison. I don't think visitors of any kind will be welcome until we've got the place straightened up and that could take a while."

"Do you think you could persuade the warden to make an exception?" Chip smiled winningly.

"If it were any prisoner other than the one that started the riot, I'm sure the warden would make an exception for you, but that one's going to be in solitary for at least a month and I don't think anything short of a full pardon from the city elders or the Congress of Mice is going to get her out any sooner."

Chip scowled and rested his chin on his paws with his elbows on the table.

Haggs eyed him warily. "Can I ask a question?"

"Sure." Chip barked in a surly voice. "What do you want to know?"

"I know it's silly, but… Is there an easy way to tell Gadget from the impostor? If, say for the sake of argument, someone who had never met either of them had to tell them apart. Any distinguishing marks, scars, tattoos even?"

"Tattoos?" Chip frowned at her as if she had grown an extra head. "If you're thinking of that stupid rumour Dale started about her having a screwdriver tattooed on her – well, never mind where – then you can just forget it!"

"Well, there's no need to take offence. I'm just doing my job. I had a tattoo myself before I removed it."

Chip blinked, perhaps for a moment picturing a screwdriver tattoo on the white rat's ample never-mind-where. Then he got it. "Oh, your ear… You had a lab tattoo. Look, I'm sorry."

"I don't need your sympathy." Haggs informed him coldly.

"No, I mean about you just doing your job. Please, wait, I'll try and think of something." Chip was placating. "If it helps Gadget has a huge scar from the crash she was in recently."

Haggs tried not to pull a face. It was a perfectly reasonable answer to the question, without doing her any good at all. She tried to sound bright about it. "Anything else?"

"I think she still has a scar on her back from a tangle with Fat Cat. No, wait. The doctor said that he couldn't see any sign of it today." Chip seemed to lose himself in thought.

Haggs didn't allow him to stay lost long. "Any questions you might ask? Something that only Gadget would know the answer to?"

"Try her dad's birthday. She really loved the old guy but she doesn't know exactly when he died 'cause he went missing on her. She takes the same day off every year, eighteenth of January, without fail. Doubt many people could look that up."

"Thank you, Mister Maplewood. That should be very helpful." Haggs rose to leave.

Chip stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Wait. What do you ask that question for? And don't tell me you're just doing your job or that it's for the prison files because I know better."

"I suppose you've found me out, Mister Maplewood." Haggs smiled charmingly. "The truth is that I'm afraid that fraud we have in Shrankshaw can be very convincing. She has one or two of the prisoners up there convinced that she's the real Gadget Hackwrench and she's been using that coupled with the promise of reward when she proves her claims to get special treatment. That's more or less how she was able to start a riot this morning. As you can imagine, we'd rather not have that happen again. Now you've given me something I can use to prove she's a cheep fraud and impostor, as the judge and jury said. You've been most helpful. I'm only sorry I couldn't be of as much help to you in your inquiry."

Chip stared at her for a second or two, then looked disappointed. "For a moment there, I had a crazy feeling, like I had been following a trail of breadcrumbs and bumped heads with someone following the same trail in the opposite direction."

Haggs roared with genuine laughter. "I'm sorry to disappoint you then. Now, I really MUST be going. It's been a long day."

"Yeah, me too, and I have a longer night ahead of me."

"You're going to carry on working on your problem? Even though you can't interview the prisoner?"

"I can interview Jen and see what the coffee in this place is like. Some problems are like that. You just have to keep at them until you make a breakthrough. Persistence pays off." Chip had brought out his notebook and was going through the pages.

"If I were you I'd take the night off." Haggs suggested mysteriously. "Sometimes all you have to do is leave a problem alone and it just goes away all by itself."

With a tip of her peaked cap Haggs left the bar, the detective and the short-sighted white mouse behind her. She made her way out into the warm night air without the slightest intention of following her own advice.


	24. Murder and the Modern Mouse

_**Disclaimer**_

In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone… except a certain kind of lawyer.

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

**Murder and the Modern Mouse**

166

Lawhiney stretched out both legs in the warm water, especially the leg that had, until today, been trapped in a cast. That leg's muscles were noticeably weaker from lack of use than the ones in her other leg. She had been planning to take a warm bath to wash away a month's worth of dead skin flakes and shed fur but a series of muscle cramps had turned a luxury into an essential.

Sighing, she sank deeper into Gadget's bubble bath. The inventor certainly had good taste in bubbles, Lawhiney had to give her that.

The water rose to her bottom lip and she allowed the foam to tickle her nose. Lying there amid the bubbles, in a bathtub that had once been a human's gravy boat, Lawhiney finally allowed herself to lower her guard.

For a very long time she just floated in the comfortable, warm water. She was on the edge of falling asleep and only remained awake because she made a conscious decision that the bathtub would be a dangerous place for a nap. A smile curled her lip. She felt at peace for the first time in over a month, perhaps the first time she could remember.

Slowly her eyes began to droop. She was looking at the taps at the end of the bath with the steam rising between her toes, then she was looking at the inside of her eyelids, then the hazy figure standing at the end of the bath, then at the inside of her eyelids again – Ratigan stood over her with flaming red eyes and brimstone yellow teeth.

Lawhiney recoiled in terror. Her feet kicked madly at him yet slipped conveniently into his claws. She whimpered as her head sank below the water. She could feel his steely finger and thumb holding her formerly broken leg high at the tap end of the bath, stopping her from getting her head above the bath water.

She screamed and choked.

Lawhiney tasted soap in her mouth and felt it sting her eyes. For the briefest instant she thought she was done for, certain to emerge in a dark place where an angry mob and a terrible heat awaited her. The thought made her curl up to protect her unborn baby but at the thought of her child, Lawhiney's temper flashed hotter than any steam iron. She clawed at the grip on her leg. All the fingers of her right hand closed around Ratigan's unnaturally cold and hard index finger. She tore at it and the finger moved with unexpected ease.

An icy cold deluge of water hit Lawhiney somewhere personal that made her squeal loud enough to be heard throughout the house. A moment later the bath foam was pushed upwards like seaweed as though a sea-monster were rising from the deep, with Lawhiney playing the part of the monster. She sat up and found herself tightly gripping the cold, hard but reassuringly real metal of the cold tap.

Lawhiney gasped and tried to blink the soap out of her eyes. The ankle on the leg that she had been stretching had become trapped between the bath taps. She had mistaken the hard metal protrusions on top of the taps for Ratigan's fingers.

Had it been a dream then?

Her eyes still stinging, she peered into the clouds of steam at the end of the bath. The figure was still there!

"Ratigan?" she whispered.

The figure put its hands on its hips and laughed. "No, it's me. Now wipe that soap out of your eyes and get a bathrobe on before the Monty and the others break down the door. They must have heard the shriek you made when that cold water hit your – ha-ha, not that I saw where it hit you, of course."

"Geegaw! You rat!"

"Now that's a fine welcome after I healed your leg. What did I do to deserve such a COLD reception?"

"You turn your back while I get a towel!"

"Seen it all before! I used to change your diapers, remember?"

"You've got me mixed up with Gadget again. Now you turn –"

Pounding at the door.

"It's alright! I'm okay!" Lawhiney said.

The pounding stopped. A suspicious Monty rumbled through the door. "Who is that?"

Lawhiney closed her eyes and sucked air through pursed lips. She had forgotten to do her Gadget voice.

"Golly, Monty, I'm alright. I just slipped in the bath, that's all. It was the lubricant properties of the soap and water emulsion overcoming the frictional co-efficient of the bath tub against my – " Lawhiney was half way through her best Gadget impression when she caught Geegaw's eye and nearly dissolved into laughter "– well, it's not important which part of me, I guess the point is I'm fine and you don't have to worry about a thing."

"Are you sure?" Monty didn't sound convinced.

"Do you think I should tell him I saw a spider or something?"

"Any spider Monty catches spying on Gadget taking a bath better have a good chiropractor. Monty would tie his legs in knots."

"I could have sworn I heard someone else talking in there…" The door muffled Monty's puzzlement.

"There's only me, Monty. I really don't know who you think I'd be entertaining in the bathroom, or why I'd be entertaining them in here instead of in some other part of the house." Lawhiney called back in her Gadget voice.

Then a thought occurred to her.

"Can he hear you?" she asked Geegaw in a barely audible hiss.

"No. He can't hear me, worst luck."

"Sounded like another mouse girl." Monty confirmed through the door. "Reminded me of someone. Can't quite place who."

Geegaw laughed. "See, kiddo? If he could hear me, you would have had the worst spanking of your life within five minutes of waking up and been in whatever hellhole Gadget's been sweating in for the last two months not long after. Probably would have made my job with you an uphill battle but I'd have been able to take my own sweet time about it."

"I'm fine and alone, Monty. Really. You don't have to worry about a thing." Lawhiney's Gadget impression was slipping.

"If you say so, Gadget-luv." There was something uncertain in Monty's voice that the door muffled enough for her to miss.

Lawhiney waited a second and then glared at her guide. "And unless your bosses upstairs really are okay with you ogling your charges, you can just turn your back right now."

Geegaw complied with a wry smile that had nothing to do with lust. Behind him Lawhiney made a mousy Venus De Milo as she stood up in the bath. She wrapped herself in a warm, snuggly towel and stepped daintily out of the bath.

"There, all finished. You can turn around now." Lawhiney said after a vigorous towelling that left most of her fur standing on end.

Geegaw did and surveyed her with a cynical eye. "Very lovely. Now, did that snake oil salesman show his ugly tail again, while I was indisposed?"

"No. I don't think so. Actually I thought that you were him when I first saw you standing at the end of the bath there. You scared the hell out of me."

"I doubt it. It would take more than me to scare you."

"I could have drowned. Why didn't you help me?"

"Sorry, kiddo, but I can't touch anything, remember?"

"You didn't have to frighten me like that. You could have knocked or something."

"What part of 'I can't touch anything' confused you? Anyhow, you were asleep when I came in and, I might add, sleeping in the bathtub is a dangerous habit for someone in your spiritual position."

"My foot only got stuck between the taps because I kicked when I thought I saw Ratigan."

"Looked more like you were dreaming to me."

"Dreaming? Geegaw, I just remembered. That rat who showed up at the hospital. He said he had been visiting me in my dreams, regularly. Is that possible?"

"Sure it's possible. I gave you a bad dream; remember? Would have been there to meet you myself, if it hadn't included a tour of the basement."

"Coward."

"What?" Geegaw scowled at her. "Oh, I see. It was the other side's territory you know. I wouldn't have been too welcome there."

"More likely they wouldn't have let you out again." Lawhiney stuck her tongue out at him.

"Hm, well, there was that too." Geegaw admitted ruefully.

"That rat said he had been making me forget dreaming about him… I mean forget the dreams he was in. Actually, I'm not sure how to say it."

"It's confusing I know. Yes, he can do that too, with permission. I'm afraid he may give you a rough time from now on."

"Can you protect me from him?"

"I can be there as a chaperone, if you like. Make sure you know it's just a dream. Make sure you know who he is and what's happening. Not much more I can do, I'm afraid."

Lawhiney looked haunted. In point of fact, Geegaw thought, she was haunted but it hadn't showed until now.

"I could have sworn I saw him when I was laying in the bath. Standing by the taps. Then I kicked at him and he grabbed my leg and tried to drown me."

"Lawhiney, I was standing by the door until you slipped under the foam and started choking. You were asleep." Geegaw thought about it. "Hey, he can touch you in dreams. Maybe you did see him."

"Wouldn't you know about it? If he was doing that?"

"Not necessarily. You said he'd been visiting your dreams before but I didn't know that. I only knew that he was supposed to be influencing you and that he hadn't shown up. I took it as a lucky break."

Lawhiney remembered her conversation with the big rat at the hospital and her sudden flash of insight when she had realised that Ratigan had recently spent time in the company of Gadget Hackwrench. Should she tell Geegaw? While once she would have answered the question in terms of what she could get out of him, now she answered it in terms of whether she could live with herself if kept it from him.

"Geegaw…" she began.

"Kiddo, I'm not here to play around. I know you played me for a sucker at the hospital. My supervisor made it all too clear after I showed up back at base looking like a badly washed shadow. I'm only back here on probation for a few more hours. They figure that's all it should take."

"To find a replacement?"

"For you to turn yourself in and accept whatever punishment the earthly authorities see fit to bestow on you, hopefully."

Lawhiney hoped otherwise.

"To tell you the truth, I only wanted to come back to tell you I know now that you're never going to do that and, well, I'm sorry it didn't work out. I wish I could have known you for longer."

Lawhiney suddenly wanted to hug him. "I wish I could know you for longer too."

"I blame myself for a lot of your troubles." Geegaw admitted with difficulties. "I should have been there for you."

"You've done more than anyone else has ever done for me." Lawhiney told him, sincerely. "For what it's worth, I hope Gadget is okay."

Geegaw smiled. "My, you've come on in leaps and bounds. Lawhiney, it's not too late. Go to Monty. Explain everything like you were going to after that nightmare. It can still work out."

Lawhiney smiled at him. "If I tell you some news about Gadget that would really want to hear, would you promise to stop pushing me to do that and help me make a clean getaway?"

Geegaw looked at her with a glint in his eye. "Not even then. Asides from anything else, I couldn't hold up my end of the bargain."

"Folks upstairs wouldn't let you, huh?"

"For what it's worth, I wish you could get clean away but it's not as simple as that. What you're running away from is something that lives inside you. Something you see behind your eyes every time you peek in the mirror." Geegaw slumped looking defeated. "I guess I've failed you. But I'll be here for you anyway, because there's nothing else I can do and nowhere else for me to go."

Lawhiney looked at him sadly for a moment. "You're okay Geegaw. And if anyone upstairs says different then they'll have me to reckon with."

167

Lawhiney was getting used to the idea that there could be someone from the great beyond looking in on her at any moment. She dressed with shyness more fitting to the real Gadget.

Dinner was at six. It consisted of an acorn and cheese salad with fruit afterwards. Chip was late, he entered wearily, fanning himself with his hat and looking like he'd walked across the entire city.

"Where you been at, Chipper?" Monty wondered. "You're at least half an hour late."

"Feels like I've been everywhere." Chip smiled without really answering the question.

"You missed the acorn salad." Dale said. "But there's still plenty of cheese and fruit."

Chip scowled. He loved acorn salad. "You greedy guts."

In truth, Lawhiney had eaten most of it. She had reached the stage where she was having cravings. Dale looked at her soulfully but didn't try to shift the blame and Lawhiney didn't try to admit responsibility. Instead, she tried to change the subject.

"You didn't answer Monty's question, Chip. Where have you been?" She tried to make it sound like she was genuinely interested but she had sat at this table for breakfast, lunch and dinner every day for a month now and things had settled into a routine that she could handle on automatic pilot.

Chip glanced at her and shrugged. "Here and there. After the hospital I had a drink and something to eat with an acquaintance of ours who knows a thing or two about romance between the species."

There was a pregnant silence. Lawhiney was merely silent and pregnant.

Lord, she thought, if he goes down on one knee and proposes to me, I'll have to admit everything. I couldn't walk down the isle wearing white, the dress would spontaneously combust or something, and Gadget couldn't walk down it wearing anything else. Besides, I'd be standing at the alter waiting for Gadget Hackwrench to walk in when they asked if anyone knew a just cause.

"It's funny, you think you know a person but you never really do. What goes on in their head, what they do when they're alone, what they were like before you knew them. Who they really are." Chip looked around the table to see if his friends knew what he was talking about.

Lawhiney sat very still. Was this what Geegaw had meant when he had said the powers that be only expected that he would need another couple of hours? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Okay. Last chance then. She would take it. She swallowed what was in her mouth, which mostly felt like her heart, and opened her mouth to confess.

Chip continued, ruining the moment. "Anyway, after that I went to check with the pigeon post and they say there's still no reply from Hawaii. I wrote to them to ask whether Lawhiney had escaped from the resort, back when the first reports of someone impersonating Gadget came in. They said they'll send someone out when it comes in. If Lawhiney's missing then I guess we'll know for sure that messed up girl in Shrankshaw is her. If not, I'll start checking missing person reports and try to backtrack her trail."

Lawhiney closed her mouth.

Monty winced and looked sideways at Lawhiney. "Gadget-luv? You knew about someone impersonating you, right?"

Lawhiney frowned as if trying to remember. In fact she had just worked out that her campaign of vengeance and mayhem had been kept a secret from Gadget. She had nearly broken herself running across the country pretending to be someone she had hated and Gadget had never even known. No one had even MENTIONED it to her. Two months ago, that would have made her crazy.

"Gadget-luv?"

"Sure, I knew." Lawhiney smiled. "I went through the newspaper clippings at my welcome home party. Go on Chipper, you were saying?"

"Afterwards I dropped by to visit Jen – she says she has something of yours by the way. She wouldn't tell me what. Guess it must be something personal." Chip pronounced personal in that special male way that meant feminine.

"I'll be sure to stop by as soon as I'm feeling up to it." Lawhiney lied.

"Anyway, Jen had another visitor while I was there. A big white rat prison guard out of Shrankshaw Prison, one I'd seen when I went up there to try and get some truth out of the impostor the Street Watch caught using your name."

"Oh?" Lawhiney had suddenly lost her appetite. She had become very, very sharply aware that what Geegaw had said earlier about only being with her a few more hours could be taken to mean her time as a free mouse was running out.

Monty looked worried. "I remember Jen from when Geegaw and I were on our adventures. Jen's mother was one of the most beautiful creatures I'd ever laid eyes on. Even turned Geegaw's head for a while and after he lost your mum, Gadget, that was no mean feat. I went looking for the source of the Nile for a few months as I remember it and you and he took some time out for you to go to school in London. She's a good girl, from what I remember, even if her mum was a bit flighty."

"I love your stories, Monty." Lawhiney smiled brightly. She did. Many was the time she had inspired him to tell some long winded improbable tale to get her out of a tight corner and his willingness to retell stories that the real Gadget had actually lived through had allowed her to add considerably to her knowledge of Gadget's life. It was unlikely she could have survived the last month living in the tree house without Monty's shaggy dog stories, in fact.

"I don't see how Jen could be mixed up with my impostor, Chip." Lawhiney cooed.

"I don't mean to suggest Jen is mixed up in anything but meeting this white rat threw me. I felt like I had been following a thread to find my way out of some dark place only to bump into someone following the same thread the other way. She wouldn't admit it but I'm convinced she was playing detective and that she was following a trail of clues from Shrankshaw that had led her to Jen."

Lawhiney put her fork down and quietly dabbed at her lips with her napkin. She was discretely watching everyone else round the table.

"Golly, Chip! It sounds like you've got competition to me. Either that or an admirer!" Dale laughed at his own joke.

Chip hit him over the head automatically, without even looking in his direction.

Bzzzt-whzzzz-zzzEeeet! Zipper suggested from the sink. He only ate leftovers and by mutual agreement stayed off the table.

"Good point, Zipper." Chip agreed.

"Well said." agreed Monty.

"Jen wouldn't have to know a thing. There are plenty of practiced deceivers who think nothing of leading a person on and using them for some end that would turn their blood cold if they knew how they were being used. It could happen to Jen as easily as to any trusting, innocent person." Chip slumped back and folded his arms, scowling. "Still, I'd love to know what made that white rat visit Jen's place like that."

"Are you sure it was something to do with the impostor?" Monty rumbled, his forehead deeply furrowed in thought.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure." Chip said.

Lawhiney's vision was blurring and her hearing was beginning to fade in and out. She looked like a politely listening and quietly attentive mouse girl but inside she felt her reason crack and madness begin to leek in. Perhaps if she went to hell, she would live through this conversation for all eternity.

"Do you suppose the impostor got the guard to visit Jen?" Dale was scratching his head.

"Why would the impostor do that if Jen was just an unwitting pawn, Dale? No, there's something deeper here. I've got a feeling it's something so obvious we're overlooking it. It'll probably come to me in the morning. Right now, I'm too tired to think straight." Chip finished the apple slice he was eating and threw his napkin onto the table as though admitting defeat.

"Better hope that white rat doesn't solve the case before you, Chip." Dale teased. "After all, she can question the impostor any time she wants."

Chip shot him a look. "If she can find out who that impostor is, well and good. It just means we can all get back to our normal lives a little sooner. I'm not racing anybody."

With that, Chip left the table in disgust, privately reflecting that Dale was probably right and that the white rat probably would solve the mystery of the impostor's identity before he could. She had certainly acted like she had known something when she left the bar, earlier that night.

"Excuse me." Lawhiney said in a slightly unsteady voice that didn't sound a think like Gadget. "I don't feel well."

"That just leaves you and me to clear up, Dale. Let's be having you." Monty said as she fled the room.

168

Lawhiney shut herself in Gadget's bedroom and screamed into a pillow until Geegaw appeared out of thin air.

"Well?" he asked.

"No, everything is so far from well, I probably couldn't even see well with aid of a telescope!" Lawhiney snapped back at him. "How in heaven's name did I forget that Gadget could blow the lid off this thing anytime she wants? She's had a prison guard visit Jennifer! She was probably there to ask Jen all sorts of intimate questions about Gadget that only Jen could know the answers to and by now she's probably back at the prison making sure Gadget gets her shoulders massaged by the Warden while the Mayor writes a grovelling apology in his best handwriting!"

"I've been telling you all along this wouldn't work out, kiddo." Geegaw shook his head but had a fond smile at the thought of his daughter, safe and sound.

"Why on earth didn't she do it in the first five minutes? She could have had Chip identify her at the police station or in the courtroom. She could have written a letter to Monty asking him to get her out."

"I don't know the answers to any of that. I'm only allowed to look in on her occasionally and I can't talk to her unless she has grave need of me. It would have to be life or death – worse than that, even." Geegaw waved a finger to emphasise the point. "The chances are you're probably never going to know the answers to any of the questions you've asked. The world isn't run for the purpose of satisfying your idle curiosity, young lady. The only thing that matters now is what you do next."

Lawhiney looked at him for a moment. "Thank you, Geegaw. You're right, as always."

Geegaw looked at her with surprise, hope and a little mistrust.

"I have to make a break for it." Lawhiney didn't disappoint him.

Geegaw's expression soured. "Swell. That's just swell. Go ahead, why don't you? Abandon every step forward that you've made in the last two months. Turn your back on the second chance you were given by God's grace. Do you know how rare second chances are? How few are given out, especially to someone at the stage you were at? I didn't get one. Not even Gadget's mother got one. But go ahead; spend your second life the way you spent your first one. Within a few months you'll get your figure back and you'll be bored with changing nappies. You might even find a good-looking chump to leave holding the baby. When the time comes, the opposition will probably hold a welcome rally for you down below."

Lawhiney wanted to scream and throw something at him but pretending to be Gadget every waking moment for a month had taught her self restraint if nothing else. Instead she found herself listening to the part of her heart that liked Geegaw and was sorry to disappoint him. "I'm sorry, Geegaw. I can't turn my back on freedom any more than I can turn my back on life by taking a walk down cat alley. Try and understand. If you can't understand, try and forgive." She hesitated. "You have made a difference to who I am, Geegaw. A month ago I wouldn't have kept my promise to you to write a letter confessing everything before slipping out the door."

She watched him carefully, like a little girl who had argued with her parents and now wanted to be forgiven.

Geegaw watched her back, as he was supposed to, looking for a sign that she was insincere. He couldn't find any.

"You mean it?" he tested.

"Yes."

"You know that if that Prison Officer really is back at the prison arranging Gadget's release, chances are they have a telephone there. They could be calling the Sweepers right now."

"I know, Geegaw."

"There could be police on the way over right now."

"Yes, I know."

"Every second probably counts."

Lawhiney folded her arms. "Are you trying to talk me out of it?"

"No!" Geegaw held up his open paws. "No, wouldn't dream of it."

"Good, because I don't have time to argue. Especially not if I'm going to have time to pack a few essentials." Lawhiney dragged Gadget's overnight bag out from its hiding place.

After she had added items from the underwear drawer, the medicine cabinet in Gadget's bathroom and the bedside table, she wrapped the bag in a towel and made her way to Gadget's workshop, where she knew there was privacy and a desk with paper and ink.

Geegaw watched her every step of the way in genuine wonder. It was like watching a mayfly emerge from its cocoon just as the sunset crept over the horizon. Lawhiney was keeping a promise even though it put her freedom in danger.

She pulled up a draftsman's chair made out of five toothpicks and a bottle cap and smiled at the thought of Chip's face when he read the letter she was about to write. She decided, impulsively, to make the letter as filthy as possible to ensure his embarrassment whenever he had to produce it as evidence. A wicked grin danced upon her face as she took up her pen, only to have her first ever encounter with writer's block.

"What's wrong." Geegaw asked with his eyes narrowed.

"I don't know what to confess first." Lawhiney admitted, sheepishly.

"Just pick something and go from there but make sure it doesn't read like Gadget who's confessing." Geegaw advised.

"Don't worry, I promise it won't sound a thing like Gadget." Lawhiney smiled in a way that should have set off every warning bell in Geegaw's head.

Geegaw shook his head as Lawhiney hunched over the paper and giggled.

"What's so funny?" he asked a few minutes later.

"Nothing, I'm just thinking of that stupid detective's face when he reads what I'm writing." Lawhiney was grinning like a maniac.

"It's not funny. This could ruin him." Geegaw scolded her.

"Well, he's not such a good detective anyway. He should stick to rescuing people."

"Granted. But that's no reason to take delight in his downfall."

"I'm not taking delight in his downfall because he's not a good enough detective to catch me. I'm taking delight in it because he would take delight in mine." Lawhiney answered.

"You're not out of the woods yet, kiddo."

"The consequences for me, if he catches me out, are a lot worse than the consequences for him, if I catch him out." Lawhiney reminded him. "So I think I'm entitled to be a little pleased with myself for outwitting him."

Geegaw's eyes narrowed. "That's not what you're smiling about. It's the wrong kind of smile, there's no relief in it. That's Lawhiney's mischief smile! I may not have known you long, but it's been long enough to know that look. You're causing trouble for someone."

Lawhiney peeped at him from over the top of the sheet of paper she had been writing on, her eyes bright with laughter.

"Let me see that sheet of paper." Geegaw demanded. "I want to know what you've done!"

Lawhiney held it out to him and watched closely as he tried to take it. The fascinating thing was that no matter how closely she watched she couldn't see the exact point where his hand passed through the paper. It was as if someone was playing a film and a couple of frames, the exact frames where Geegaw's hand would have made contact with the paper, had been cut out.

Geegaw glared at his hand in frustration. "Very funny. You'd play that joke on someone who had lost a hand or an arm, too, wouldn't you?"

Lawhiney looked at him reproachfully. "My record is bad enough without you inventing sins to go on it."

"Show me the paper." Geegaw ordered her.

Lawhiney flipped the sheet over and held it up for him to read, her other paw covering her eyes in mock fear at his reaction.

Geegaw read the paper in mounting disbelief. He couldn't believe that in the middle of the precarious position she was in, Lawhiney had taken time out to play a practical joke. He read the letter through a second time, to make sure he hadn't misunderstood. Then he looked at her with his eyes narrow and his lips pursed.

"You start out asking for understanding and forgiveness. Unlikely, particularly given what follows, but a good start." Geegaw commented. "You then go on to give your real name and place of birth. Honesty, again, good."

"I would say it was more a desire to mortify my Mother for revenge but I guess I need to score all the points I can, if I want to impress your bouncer."

Geegaw ground his teeth. "You are not writing this letter for the purposes of petty revenge on your parents or anyone else. You are supposed to be writing it for the good of your immortal soul, which is grave danger. Although now that I think of it, your mother does have it coming, so you can leave that part in."

Lawhiney's jaw dropped. Geegaw's tone implied actual personal experience of her mother, which seemed impossible, although Geegaw and her mother would have been about the same age. She shelved the thought for later.

"You then mention the incident on Hawaii, so that there's no doubt about there being more than one Gadget double. Again, good, but what's this bit about passionately entwining your tongue with Chip's? Did that actually happen?"

Lawhiney nodded. In fact, it had. While Gadget was desperately trying to signal Chip for rescue, with some success, Lawhiney had distracted him by planting one of her most effective smooches on the unsuspecting chipmunk.

"Hm. Not sure you had to mention it here. What's this about the two of you having a deeply spiritual connection that transcends the boundaries of species and social norms?"

"Perfectly true. I'm his nemesis."

"I thought Dale was his nemesis. Speaking of which, after you itemise how you lied and conned your way across the country – a little short on detail in that part, by the way – what's this part about Chip and Dale? Right before you say you now realise that your hatred of Gadget was entirely misconceived and wrongheaded, which is a nice touch by the way."

"It should be clear further on."

"I don't see that you needed to mention their constant public arguing, let alone compare them to an old, bickering, married couple." Geegaw observed as he continued reading the letter. "I see you've explained how Gadget and you got swapped by your people quite nicely."

Lawhiney smiled sweetly. "I haven't mentioned you, Saint Peter, or Ratigan anywhere. I hope that's alright."

"Fine, fine. It's okay to be discreet about that sort of thing." Geegaw continued reading. "You say that you were afraid of jail and continued the deception without expecting it to go so far. That has the ring of truth about it. Then you say that your heart was breaking and that you couldn't go on with it any more because–" Geegaw reached the last paragraph and flushed deeply.

Wow, Lawhiney thought, I wouldn't have thought a ghost would have enough blood in him to go that colour!

Geegaw glared at her, his whiskers vibrating in fury. "You can't leave this behind! I won't let you!"

Lawhiney hid a teasing grin behind the confession she had written. "What's the matter Gee-gee? I wrote a confession, just like I promised. Everything in it's true, or mostly true. And I haven't actually said anything that's an outright lie, I've just phrased it in a way that will make Chip blush a little when he produces the letter in evidence."

Geegaw put his paws on his hips and looked at her in wonder. "Maybe you don't understand what you've written, Lawhiney. What you're implying in that letter could destroy someone!"

"In your day, maybe, but the world's moved on since the dark ages." Lawhiney poked fun.

"Lawhiney, if you want to leave this room with my blessing, let alone my aid, you'll tear that up and write a straight confession!"

"Interesting choice of words…" Lawhiney mused. "Would you really aid me?"

"For all you know, I can take back the power I used to heal your leg and leave you to crawl out of here." Geegaw bluffed.

Lawhiney noticeably failed to quail but considered what he had said carefully. "Alright." She said. "I'll rewrite the confession, but only on one condition."

"You're in no position to make conditions." Geegaw warned, twiddling his fingers like a pantomime magician.

"You said that you could take back the healing power you used on my leg FOR ALL I KNEW." Lawhiney pointed out, unimpressed. "If you could actually do it you would have just said you could do it, without the proviso. I don't think you're allowed to tell me an outright lie but if you can do what you said, or I'm wrong about you having to tell the truth, then just flat out tell me that you can do it without any loopholes or add-ons and I'll have to do what you tell me, won't I?" Lawhiney looked down at him, haughtily.

Geegaw caved.

"What's the condition?" he asked.

"I'll rewrite the confession in exchange for something." She looked down for a moment, her face shadowed. "I won't ask you to aid me. I think you might get into trouble for that. I won't even ask you to get official approval for me running away, assuming you could get it. But I do want you to give me your personal blessing to make a break for it."

Geegaw thought for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, Law. Write it out again and you'll have my blessing. I'll even check to make sure the coast is clear."

"Thanks, Geegaw! You're an honest crook."

"My boss would only half agree." Geegaw replied wryly. "Now get on with it. Time's a-wasting."

Lawhiney balled up her first confession and tossed it into the wastepaper basket as though she was keeping score. She busily penned a second draft while Geegaw read carefully over her shoulder.

Then the door crashed open.

Lawhiney and Geegaw goggled at the chipmunk standing boldly in the doorway with one paw on his hip and the other pointing a finger into the air, as though inspiration had waited until after he had kicked open the door to strike.

"I have it!" Proclaimed a proud and happy voice.

"DALE!"

Lawhiney sounded more surprised than she had ever sounded in her entire life.

Dale folded his arms and looked at her as though daring her to question or challenge him. "Yes, that's right. I've worked it out. I hold the solution in the palm of my paw!" He looked at the palm of his paw which he was holding out and which was conspicuously empty. "Well, not literally, of course, because I'm not holding anything, but the solution is so obvious now that it might as well be a handy sized object like an acorn or a sugar-coated cereal puff that I could just pick up and do whatever I want with." Dale chomped the air a couple of times as something distracted him. "Speaking of which, I'm hungry. You haven't got any of those little space age food pellets in here, have you?"

Lawhiney blinked at him for a moment and then her eyes narrowed as his dramatics made sense. "You've been watching another classic trek marathon, haven't you?"

"Yes, and it was a trek episode that gave me the answer I was looking for."

"There's a dispenser built into the wall." Lawhiney nodded towards it, ready to fight or flee as the occasion arose.

"Gadget loved that show." Geegaw shook his head sadly. "There's an episode where the hero gets split into two identical copies of himself. A good and evil version."

Lawhiney winced. "Isn't Chip always telling you that too much Star Trek is bad for your imagination?" She warmed up to twisting Dale around her little finger.

"I don't know why he says that. My imagination always works great after watching Star Trek." Dale was filling his mouth with the food pellets from the dispenser. Since Lawhiney hated them, they had probably been there for two months.

Lawhiney's lips twitched. Out of the corner of her mouth she muttered: "No, I don't care how forgiving he is, I will NOT be caught by DALE."

"Mff-wha-as-ah-humf?" Dale said round a mouthful of pellets.

"I asked what great mystery you had solved, oh great detective." The voice could have been Gadget's but the sarcasm was all Lawhiney's.

"Oh, I solved the problem of how to finish the Case of the Criminal Copy!"

Lawhiney blinked. "Go on."

"See, Friendly Enterprises, the company that prints the Red Badger of Courage comic books, cancelled the series right before the second part of the Case of the Criminal Copy was due to go to the printers. But I was watching Star Trek and suddenly it hit me that I could make up my own ending. All I need is some paper, some ink and then to become a great comic book artist."

Dale looked up. Gadget was staring slack-jawed at his brilliance. He beamed. If he had been psychic he would have seen that there were two pairs of jaws on the floor.

Geegaw and Lawhiney slowly looked sideways at each other. After a moment, Geegaw gave a nervous chuckle and tried to cajole his charge into seeing the funny side. "I know that little fella has a big heart but I gotta tell ya, if I wasn't dead, I'd have had a heart attack."

Lawhiney's face was scrunched up like a balled up piece of scrap paper. Her ears pointed towards Dale like horns and her eyebrows made a flat, fury-darkened line across her gaze. When she spoke, her voice was like rough silk.

"Don't I have a sign up on my workshop door that says you're not allowed in?"

"Uh, well. I didn't think you'd mind since it was in a good cause." Dale seemed suddenly shy.

"Does it say anything about good causes on the sign?"

"Uh, no…"

"Does it say – specifically – that I'm referring to you, DALE, when I say keep out?" Lawhiney proved that had she been born more or, perhaps, less honest, she would have made a fine trail lawyer.

"Uh, well…" For a moment it looked like Dale was going to have to go out and check. "Yes." He ventured. "But darn it, Gadget, I only came in for a piece of paper and a pen!"

"Borrow Chip's."

"He'll hit me again!"

"I might hit you if you don't!" Lawhiney sounded nothing like Gadget.

Dale blinked at her. Gadget was almost yelling in his face now.

"What?" Lawhiney demanded. "What is it?"

Very slowly but not so slowly that there could be any mistake about what he was doing, Dale leaned forwards just enough to be nose-to-nose with her and gently sniffed.

Lawhiney realised what he was doing and her eyes went wide. She had let her guard down and gone too far, dropping all pretence that she was who she claimed to be. With the realisation that she had been an idiot came the embarrassment and self-hate that always came with such unpleasant self-knowledge. The hate she found easy enough to redirect at Dale. The embarrassment was just another reason to hate him more.

Dale twitched an embarrassed smile at her. "Isn't that the perfume you wore when you and Chip pretended to be a super-spies?"

Lawhiney's jaw dropped a second time. It wasn't so much that for the second time she had expected Dale to be the one to unmask her, only for him to say something trivial, it was more that Monty had retold that story for her. Lawhiney knew it was Dale that Gadget had played that game with, not Chip, and was amazed Dale could come up with such a clever trap for her on the fly, especially without giving any outward sign of suspicion. She was so surprised she had to look at him a second time before she could believe he had actually said it.

"Jeepers, Dale! It was you I played Irma Killjoy for, not Chip! What's wrong with you? Are you feeling alright?" She shook her hair at him and batted her big blue eyes.

Dale forced a nervous laugh and looked away. "I'm fine I guess. It's just, say, how come you're wearing perfume. You usually don't unless you're going out somewhere. Are you going out, Gadget?"

Lawhiney smiled benignly at him but didn't miss the emphasis Dale had placed on Gadget's name. He was trying to fool her so he could go and talk to Chip or Monty.

"I'm just wearing it because it's the first night out of my cast, Dale. I wanted to feel special. But since I have my mobility back I might go and visit Jen later." Lawhiney suddenly caught sight of the overnight bag, still where she had left it, just behind the door. It even had nightclothes poking out of the top and all Dale had to do was turn around to see it.

Dale looked worried. "Isn't it a little late to go out?"

"Dale, you're so sweet to worry about me." She kissed him on the cheek and stood back to survey how much damage her attack had achieved. Dale's eyes were half closed and he had a dopey grin. He hadn't flinched which would have been a sure giveaway that he knew for certain she wasn't Gadget. "You don't have to. I'll have Jen to look after me and I can always stay at her place if it's too late to come back here."

"Why don't we all go out on the town with you if it's a special occasion?" Dale suggested.

Was he still suspicious or had that kiss been too much encouragement? Lawhiney couldn't tell but had to play it as it lay.

"I've been cooped up with you four guys for over a month now and I want to enjoy some girl talk. I want to talk about –" Lawhiney's eyes glazed for a moment as she remembered what the real Gadget was like "– which brand of engine oil smells better and how to get the vibration from a 5v direct current electric motor to that VERY special frequency. You guys just wouldn't know what I was talking about." Lawhiney only barely knew what she was talking about. She was dredging most of it up from her memories of Gadget's diary.

Dale shook his head, probably wondering if Jen would know what she was talking about. "You know, Chip's right. Watching Star Trek does make my imagination do crazy things."

"Why don't you put it to work on your new comic book project? That will keep it out of trouble." Lawhiney suggested. With any luck it would also keep him quiet about any suspicions he had for a good long time.

"That's a great idea! Does that mean I can borrow some paper and ink?" Dale's tail wagged with a cub's enthusiasm and at that moment Lawhiney would have found it difficult to refuse him anything. She followed his shining eyes and saw that she was still holding the pen she had been using to write her confession.

"Sure, Dale." Lawhiney handed him the pen.

"Zowie! Thanks Gadget!" Dale reached past her towards the sheet of paper she had been writing on.

Her confession.

Lawhiney's paw slammed down on it so fast Dale jumped back in surprise. "Ah-ha. I'm going to need a lot of paper for what I'm working on right now."

"Uh, sure Gadget." Dale looked confused by her sudden change of direction but didn't argue.

"I mean, I have something to finish up. Give me a moment to sign it and slip it in an envelope, then I'll get you some paper you can use. In the meantime, you just stand there by the door and DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING." Because I don't know a thing about Gadget's inventions and they all look like they might explode and kill everybody, Lawhiney added silently in the privacy of her own head.

Dale stood next to the open door with his head lowered and his paws behind his back, like a good cub should.

Lawhiney sniffed and nodded like a schoolteacher, then turned back to her confession. Thankfully, the ink had not smudged when she slammed her paw down on it. She signed it with a flourish, thinking that it was probably the first honest thing worthy of any note she had ever written, and stepped back to let Geegaw inspect her work. It was a document filled with crime, greed, envy and malice, yet she felt proud of it and expected to be highly praised.

Geegaw looked over her handiwork as Lawhiney addressed an envelope to Chip and added the strict injunction that it was only to opened if she wasn't back by morning. They thought she was Gadget, she reminded herself. The same story she had used on Dale ought to work on everyone else, she reasoned, there was no need to go inventing new ones.

"Looks pretty good." Geegaw admitted. "Clear, concise, leaves no room for doubt. Little short on the remorse but you don't go making excuses either."

Lawhiney folded the letter and slipped it into the envelope, which she sealed. Feeling much safer, she called over her shoulder to Dale. "I'll get you that paper, you wanted. How many sheets do you think you'll need?"

"It's okay." Dale called back. "I just need something to make rough notes on so I don't forget. There was some here in the trash bin that'll do."

"Uh-oh." Geegaw said under what passed for his breath.

Dale was standing over the wastepaper basket with Lawhiney's first confession already un-crumpled in his hand. His lips moved silently as a slight frown formed. He turned with an incredulous look on his face. "You're Lawhiney?"

Gadget's favourite adjustable wrench swung down in a short arc that ended at Dale's forehead as hard as Lawhiney could swing it.

Everything went black.


	25. The Gadget Hackwrench Situation

_**Disclaimer**_

In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone… except a certain kind of lawyer.

**Chapter Twenty Five**

**The Gadget Hackwrench Situation**

169

Haggs stopped outside the boiler-door entrance to Shrankshaw and stood in the shadows for a minute of silent thought. She pretended to herself that she was deciding what she should do about what she was now calling "the Gadget Hackwrench situation" instead of "the Jane Doe situation".

The truth was that Margo Haggs had known what she was going to do in an instant, while she was still in the bar with Chip Maplewood. She would not have wished him goodnight with the cryptic advice that "some problems go away all by themselves" if she had not know, in her heart, what she was going to do about her problem.

The problem, as Haggs saw it, was this: Prisoner 24601; Doe, Jane (aka Red), as she was on the records, was actually Gadget Hackwrench, Rescue Ranger. Unfortunately whatever outstanding qualities made her a pillar of the community and a model of virtue and goodness to be celebrated across the whole city had not been presented as evidence of her identity at her trial, nor, in Haggs' opinion, had they been in evidence since. She had whined from the moment she arrived at the prison gate, smuggled contraband, been insolent to the officers who were there to guide her, asked for special treatment, gotten into fights with other inmates, started a riot, possibly killed a fellow inmate in the riot and flooded the entire prison. It had clearly been the job of Margo Haggs, throughout, to provide a firm hand and plenty of discipline.

Sadly, Miss Hackwrench was unlikely to see it that way. Margo's spies and her own keen eavesdropping had already made it clear that Miss Hackwrench had suspicions of who was behind the electroshock treatment she had almost received, not to mention the number of times Margo Haggs had been obliged, strictly in the performance of her duties, to use force on Miss Hackwrench herself. If that wasn't enough, Miss Hackwrench undoubtedly had a soft liberal heart and had spent every spare moment of the last two months in Shrankshaw listening to sob stories from every inmate looking for a willing ear to listen to them. Then there was the matter of that unfortunate interview in the search room, when Margo Haggs had thought she was giving a piece of her mind to an inmate who badly needed correction, rather than a well respected and politically connected celebrity who could be relied on to repeat every word to the first newspaper reporter she came across.

Margo Haggs had known what she was going to do the moment she realised what it meant for her career if Red turned out to be Gadget Hackwrench. She was just pretending not to so that she could enjoy her perfectly clear conscience a little longer, before she became a murderer.

Shrankshaw Prison ran on three eight-hour shifts. The night shift ran from ten pm to six am, the morning from six am to two pm and the afternoon shift from two pm to ten pm. She had been on the morning shift when Miss Hackwrench had tried to flush the entire prison population down the sewer, something that Haggs had to admit sounded pretty reasonable. She had then finished her eight-hour shift followed by three hours unpaid overtime trying to get the cleanup crews organized, after which she had found that dratted lock-pick and the whole world had come undone.

Haggs had never made it home.

By the time Haggs had gone half way across town to visit Jen and learn the truth and then come back it was gone seven in the evening. It wasn't usual for guards to enter the prison by the boiler-door entrance at this time of night but Haggs knew the guard, who would be going off shift at ten, a couple of hours before Haggs herself planned to do anything.

Once she was inside, Haggs made herself busy with the efforts to clean up the prison. The flood had picked up every speck of dirt and, instead of washing it away, re-deposited it in new and interesting places that were often also hard to reach and clean. They would be cleaning for a long time, Haggs reflected, which might well be for the good, since the laundry was out of action and it would keep the prisoners busy.

At nine-thirty Margo Haggs found the nightshift guard who was due to take over the duty watch on the boiler-door gate. She called in a favour, explaining that she was working unusually late and wanted an easy task, and arranged to take over the shift on the boiler-door gate from the guard who had let her in. At ten she relieved the duty guard, explaining in vague terms that didn't exactly lie but did give the impression that the usual nightshift guard would be along in a little while and that she, Haggs, would cover until then so that the evening shift guard could leave on time.

Alone in the guard station Officer Haggs allowed herself two hours of blissful relaxation. Counting her original eight-hour shift, she had been on her feet for a total of sixteen hours. By contrast, she reflected, Miss Hackwrench had been delivered to the prison laundry at ten-fifteen, having needed a replacement uniform for some reason. By ten thirty-five the prison had been in chaos. Haggs had slammed the door of her solitary confinement cell sometime around eleven and by this time she had been alone in the dark for twelve hours.

Part of the reason for Haggs' unusual ire was that no matter what she did after executing her plan (and Gadget) Haggs herself definitely had to report for duty tomorrow morning at six o'clock as if nothing had happened. By that time, Haggs would have been on her feet for a minimum of twenty-four hours and would have another eight hours in front of her before she could go home.

Prison Officer Margo Haggs was more than ready to kill Gadget Hackwrench.

Midnight would be Gadget Hackwrench's thirteenth hour in solitary.

Haggs intended to make it an especially unlucky.

170

Gadget had been alone in the dark for sometime now. She could hear the other inmates in solitary calling out but not clearly enough to make out words. After a little while her imagination began to play tricks on her and, finally, she realised that any meaning she read into the sounds she was hearing was no more real than a face seen in clouds.

Though mice require very little light to see by, compared with humans, Gadget had none at all. She could not see her paws in front of her face. It was easy to get turned around in the dark and forget where the walls were if she didn't keep in contact with them. That was easy because the cell was cramped. She could lie down in it if she wanted too but the floor was sticky and she didn't like to think why. At the far end of the cell was a shelf built into the wall. She had found it by accident and had a bruise on her knee to prove it. She could sit on the shelf and curl up on her side on it, but it was hard and too short to actually lie down on.

She lost track of time and had started counting seconds but that only meant that she knew how long she had been without a sense of time. She had only noticed after she started to feel hungry. She wondered if anyone would bring her food. She didn't realise that the kitchens were out of service and unlikely to be running again until tomorrow.

She resisted using the thimble-bucket as long as possible.

No one came to bring her food. After Gadget's stomach started rumbling someone down the corridor started yelling complaints, presumably because they hadn't been fed either. Gadget thought it was Bubbles, who didn't yet know about the flood.

Nothing happened.

Gadget began to wonder if she had gone mad and been kept here for days instead of hours. She pushed the idea away but it came back to her with a horror story told to her by Darla one meal time. A story of an inmate who had died in one of these cells and whose ghost still waited for release, wondering why she had been forgotten. Gadget wondered if such a thing were possible and whether it could happen to her.

When the first tear spilled down her cheek she became angry with herself. She knew better than this. She had survived the special wing and she would survive this. If I'm going to be stuck with my own company the least I could do is imagine something nice like the boys coming to take me home, instead of torturing myself by picturing ghosts, she told herself.

Instantly a very clear mental image came to her of the door to her confinement cell opening and Chip, Dale and Monty standing there, their mouths agape. Gadget blushed. Perhaps she could imagine some clothes too, while she was at it.

The hours wore on. She fell asleep and when she had no way of telling whether she had closed her eyes for a second or for a day. She felt cold and alone.

Then, even more frighteningly, the sensation grew upon her that she was not alone. That there was someone else, someone unseen, close at hand and that they did not belong there. If there had been a little light, would she have been able to see her breath as steam? There was a chill in her cell and it wasn't just the air.

A need to see again began to burrow into Gadget's brain until she moved carefully to the door, one hand held out in front of her to stop her banging her nose, and began to tamper with the guard's peephole.

The peephole was a horizontal slit about a hand-span across that a guard could lift when they wanted to check on an inmate. After one attempt to lift it from the inside, it was equally clear that there was a catch on the outside intended to stop her opening it from the inside. A simple device, Gadget thought, it shouldn't provide much of a challenge.

Although simple, it kept her busy and she began to hum as she worked. Using deductive reasoning that could have taught Chip a thing or two, Gadget worked out that the flap covering the peephole was on a hinge and that there was a twist catch mounted on the bottom edge that prevented it from being lifted. A pin went through the centre of the catch, fixing it to the metal flap.

Gadget considered her options.

The pin was the weak point. It was held in place with a washer and a piece of metal someone had probably bent with a pair of pliers. Gadget sucked air through her teeth. Two seconds with a hammer and a screwdriver, or five with a pair of pliers, and she could open it. Now, if only she actually had a hammer and screwdriver, or a pair of pliers…

She spent a moment wishing for her favourite tools. She could actually see where she had left a hammer laying on a workbench before she left her workshop for the last time. The memory almost moved her to tears. She had become careless with her tools, undervaluing them and what they could do.

There was more than one way to solve a problem. There was the slightest of gaps under the flap, not even wide enough to see though properly but she could sniff fresh air through it. If she could just get something through the crack, she might be able to move the catch.

"I ought to grow my nails." Gadget said out loud. She refused to acknowledge the thought that in here, she eventually would.

She pushed at the flap. It didn't give.

Inspiration struck. She couldn't get a claw under the flap to push the catch out of the way and she couldn't knock the pin out or unbend it to make the catch fall off entirely, but she could turn the pin itself. Friction would eventually drag the catch round so she could open the hatch.

Gadget grinned. She liked problem solving.

She took hold of the pin between two fingers and tried to twist it. It was stubborn and refused to turn. She applied more force and the sharp edges of the metal dug into her skin, painfully.

Gadget winced and refused to lose an argument with a bit of metal. She tried to force it and drew breath sharply as the metal drew blood.

Okay, you could win arguments with finesse, too.

She pulled a hair from her head, then another and another until she had enough to make a thread. She wrapped the thread around the pin and then she pulled the thread as gently and firmly as possible.

From the other side of the hatch came the faintest of clicks.

Grinning, Gadget pressed her face up against the hatch to see out. She lifted the flap with her fingers.

A glaring pair of bloodshot eyes blazed at her through the flap, less than a finger's width from her own.

Gadget recoiled.

The edge of the sleeping shelf hit her in the back of the knee and she went down hard. She sucked air through her teeth.

Had that been Haggs she had seen out there?

"Uh, hello?" she tried.

Nothing. The corridor outside was deeply shadowed. The corridor lights themselves were out. Light came from a single fairy light at the end of the corridor where the main hallway lights had been left on.

Gadget put her face up against the door again. She looked to the left and the right but saw nothing.

Had she imagined it? The glimpse had been so brief, so startling. Could it be the darkness had let her imagination overpower her senses?

She stepped back from the door and tried to force herself to get a grip.

She couldn't be seeing things. She wasn't crazy. She'd only been here a few hours.

A large, hunched figure hurried across the doorway and disappeared.

"Hello? Who's there?" Gadget called out.

Silence.

She could feel the fur on her back rising.

It was unbearable. Gadget didn't know whether someone was playing games with her, or she was seeing things, or both.

Gadget's eyes narrowed. The answer was obvious.

"Ratigan." She growled.

"Ah-hahahahaha! 'tis I!" Ratigan stepped deliberately in front of the peephole and capered for Gadget's benefit.

"It had to be you." Gadget growled. "I suppose you're going to deny our last meeting took place? Just like you denied the one before that, when I saw you outside my cell, right before Officer Haggs turned up?"

"I deny nothing. Except possibly that I look anything like the Phantom of the Opera, as you put it." Ratigan pretended to examine the diamond on the end of his cane and hummed gently. "The good officer didn't take it at all well when she thought you were describing her, did she?"

"You were no where to be seen. If you heard that, you were close enough to explain to her."

"Officer Haggs may well be close to me in some ways, but not in others. I certainly wouldn't attempt to explain anything to her."

"So your vanishing was nothing to do with the fact that you aren't real then?"

"Not real? My dear Miss Hackwrench – "

"Gadget. Not Miss. Ever."

"I do believe you still think I am a hallucination."

"That would be the obvious, logical answer. I've been under immense pressure. And the food isn't what I'm used to, either."

"I'm not sure I find the suggestion that I'm some kind of monster from your id flattering." Ratigan allowed himself a nasty chuckle. "To be frank, the suggestion that I'm a case of indigestion is even less so.

"I assure you, I like the idea of you coming from my imagination even less than you do."

"I'm sure. But if you're going to go around supposing that people are figments of your imagination, why stop at one? Why not ten or twenty? Why not everyone, including yourself?"

"Who would be doing the imagining?" Gadget enquired, her voice betraying some interest in the idea.

Ratigan twirled his cane in irritation. "Who cares? We'd all be as real as each other. One dream is as real as the next."

"Don't you mean nightmare?" Gadget frowned. "It was ages ago but I remember it vividly. We fought and I won. I haven't dreamed of you since. In fact, I think I could make you stop visiting at all, if I wanted."

Ratigan looked into Gadget's eyes and his nose wrinkled slightly in contempt. "And if you don't, then you want me to stay with you, by implication."

Gadget hesitated then nodded reluctantly, acknowledging Ratigan's logic.

Ratigan studied the diamond on the end of his cane again then sighed. "Of course, if you allow me to keep visiting and I am just a figment of your imagination, you are embracing madness."

Gadget opened her mouth and for a moment, couldn't bring herself to speak. "I know."

Ratigan looked up from the diamond and allowed his lips to flash a lightning quick smile to the shadows around him. "Are you really ready to let go of your sanity? To surrender reason?"

Gadget blinked coolly at him. "I no longer trust the obvious and logical solution to every problem, Professor Ratigan. The jury thought it was obvious that I was an impostor. The inmates thought it was logical that I was here to spy on them. I think you are more than a hallucination."

"Enlighten me."

"I think someone sent you here to drive me mad."

Ratigan laughed. "Wrong! You don't need any help from me on that score!"

"Why then?"

Ratigan assumed his most benign expression. "Why, my dear Miss Hackwrench, I am here to argue a case. To Advocate a course of action."

"Such as?"

Ratigan looked her directly in the eye. "I put the case that Gadget Hackwrench is a fool."

Gadget opened her mouth to say something unladylike. She swallowed her words instead.

"Not so much because her nature requires her to be a fool, like that poor Dale Oakmont, but because her heart has blinded her to the harsh nature of reality."

"If you've merely come here to insult me –"

"No insult intended, for who in life does not occasionally allow their emotions to get in the way of their better judgement? The jury certainly did. Twelve creatures of normally sound character and good sense, unable to tell the real thing from a cheap copy." Ratigan's tone would have been well suited to addressing a courtroom. For a moment, Gadget found herself wishing he had represented her instead of the nice but awful Mister Kafka.

"No, Gadget Hackwrench is a victim of vile circumstance." Ratigan continued in a vain that Gadget certainly agreed with. "Not merely in the cruel injustice that has befallen her after her years of selfless service to the community, but in her upbringing."

Gadget's eyes went wide. The faintest suggestion of criticism against her father was enough to literally make her heckles rise, though since she was a mouse it wasn't immediately obvious.

"Consider Gadget Hackwrench, deprived of her mother as a small child, with only her normally absent father to care for her. In their grief, they have only each other to cling on to, the child a comfort to the newly widowed husband, the father a comfort to the motherless child. Naturally the already close bond between them is strengthened."

Gadget could not argue with Ratigan so far, though his words were painful to her because of the memories they inspired. No doubt a jury would have been moved to tears, had there been one.

"And naturally, the father wants to be the best father he can."

"He was. He was." Gadget shivered. What she was hearing had a chilling ring of truth to it. She suspected that she was about to hear a truth she did not want to hear.

"But the more he acted the perfect father, the less he acted like himself."

Gadget blinked. "He didn't have to. He was the perfect father without having to be anything but himself."

"How sad. We'll never know if that's true now. The chance to know for sure has passed. He gave her the very best moral standards he could. All loving parents want their children to have the best. It never occurred to him that if she took the very best ethics completely to heart, she would be at the mercy of a wicked world."

Gadget frowned. The world wasn't that bad, surely? Not that she could see any evidence to the contrary from her solitary confinement cell.

"Blind to the bad in others because she had been taught to believe in the good in everyone. Helpless because her ethics forbid her from using the tactics others would use to protect themselves. Innocent... " Ratigan turned sorrowful eyes on her "…yet caged and imprisoned, perhaps for the best years of her life."

Gadget swallowed. Geegaw had also taught her not to indulge in self-pity but still her eyes were brimming now. There was something about hearing Ratigan describing her situation in the third person that seemed to give her permission to feel sorry for herself.

"I ask you now, isn't she entitled to take action? To rise up and address the wrongs done against her? To make Her Own Justice, when all other justice has been denied her? In short, must not we allow HER to rescue HERSELF when she has been abandoned by all others?" Ratigan's eyes were shining when he finished.

Gadget had unmistakeably been won over. She rocked back and forward holding her lower lip.

"Let's put an end to this." Ratigan purred. "Make your plans. Escape this place. Your promise to uphold the law has served its purpose but set it aside now. If it's necessary to make some small sacrifices of integrity, in order to guarantee your liberty in the longer term, so be it. Free your mind and your body at the same time. After all, aren't freedom and justice higher priorities?"

Gadget was shaking. "I already have. I made a deal with Haggs."

Ratigan blinked. "What's that?" he growled.

"She's speaking to Jen tonight and when she's done she'll come back here and release me. But I have to keep silent about everything that's happened in here."

"An excellent choice. No one could condemn you for putting yourself first." Ratigan soothed.

"I've changed my mind. I was weak when I made that promise and since I'm breaking vows and promises anyway, I might as well break this one. There's no way that I could keep quiet about what I've seen in here. I couldn't leave Haggs with the run of this place while Bubbles was in here. As soon as I'm out, I'm going to tell everything to anyone who will listen. Including about you."

Ratigan took a deep breath to begin yelling at her then held it as he slowly turned pink. "Why of all the stubborn…" he restrained himself again. "Ah-ha… My dear, do you really think that wise? You know all too well what would be in store for you if I were to tell the redoubtable Ms Haggs about your intended double-cross."

"Oh, scary! Well, there's nothing you can do about it, Professor Ratigan or whoever you are. You can't show yourself to anyone out there because you'll get arrested and you can't get to me to do anything yourself because you're out there and I'm in here."

"Is that so, Miss Hackwrench?" Ratigan smiled. He stepped off to one side so that Gadget could no longer see him through the peephole. She craned her neck and changed position trying to see around the corner.

"Is that so?" Ratigan whispered from just behind her ear.

Gadget whirled in the dark. She was alone.

"It's a trick!" She shouted at the air. "You're throwing your voice somehow!"

"Red? Is that you?" The voice was faint and echoing. It came from down the hall.

"Bubbles?"

"You figured out how to open the peephole, all by yourself?"

"Yes. Bubbles, do you see or hear anyone out in the corridor? I could swear there was someone just outside my door."

"Isn't that what you asked me right before Haggs tossed our cell?" Bubbles enquired bitterly.

"I'm sorry. Bubbles I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, sure."

"Bubbles, if I could do anything to make it up to you, I would. I'm getting out of here soon. I know I am." Gadget felt tears start to spill down her cheeks.

"Shut up, Red." Bubbles began coughing. "Have you any idea what I let myself be put through to keep your tail out of this hole? Do you know how long I'm going to be in here because of you? I swear, if I could get to you, I'd do more than tug on your tail or box your ears; I'd turn you over my knee. Can't you stay out of trouble for five minutes? Even with Molly and the twins watching out for you?"

Gadget pulled a face. She was going to have to explain about knocking Molly off the top of the steam iron half way through the riot she had started. "Haggs told everyone that you went to solitary because I informed on you." She started.

There was a pause.

"Hey, Char? Is that true?" Bubbles called down the corridor.

Char's reply was inaudible but Gadget assumed it would be a confirmation. Instead, she heard an irritated Bubbles repeat what Gadget had told her. The twins, she remembered, had been separated as much as possible and therefore at least one twin was too far away to hear what Gadget had to say.

Something was said that Gadget couldn't make out and then Bubbles spoke again. "Standing up like that was stupid, Red, and telling a guard that you were pushed into that laundry basket was more so. You should know by now that you have to settle your own scores in here without running to the guards or you look weak, which makes you a target. Still, without knowing who had grabbed you I guess you couldn't just go along with them."

Gadget hung her head. After what Bubbles had done, her approval meant a lot to Gadget.

"What happened after the twins got taken away?" Bubbles sounded worried.

"Surely you heard about it?"

"No. I was in solitary and the twins don't know what happened after they were taken away because, get this, someone had taken them away. Now tell me what happened."

Bubbles sounded firm, yet caring. Like a mother, Gadget thought. Remembering that Bubbles was indeed a mother, one who would not be seeing her children for a very long time, made Gadget intensely uncomfortable. She took a deep breath and prepared to unleash a torrent of words on the unsuspecting world.

And then she paused.

Bubbles would do her best to understand the stream of consciousness that passed for an account of the riot, flood and near murder of Gadget Hackwrench, naturally, but Bubbles had been through a lot, so why make things hard for her? Surely she, Gadget, had a responsibility to a friend to explain things as simply and briefly as possible?

A persistent and annoying part of her brain pointed out that this had been true every time Gadget had opened her mouth since she learned to talk, yet she had never taken the trouble to make her-self easily understood before.

"Well?" Bubbles prompted.

Gadget tried to lay it out in her head before she spoke, as if the explanation was a simple schematic or diagram. "Roxie had gone to someone called Sheila to get revenge for us beating her in the fight."

There was a sharp intake of breath from Bubbles.

"Sheila tested me and decided she didn't like the look of me. First she thought I might be a spy and then she thought I was competition. She stirred up a mob and they dunked me in the laundry vats. Molly tried to put a stop of it but that made things worse. They were going to steam iron me."

"They were going to WHAT! Are you hurt?"

Gadget winced. In fact, she hurt in many places. Her scalded ear burned, the scratches from the inmates' claws stung and the bruises from the beating ached but there was nothing broken or still leaking fresh blood.

"I'm fine." She told Bubbles.

"Tell me where you're hurt." Bubbles ordered.

Gadget smiled ruefully. Just like a mother. "I have a few cuts and bruises and a burned ear. Plus I feel like I ran a marathon. But that's all."

"You got off easy then." Bubbles sounded doubtful. "Tell me the rest."

"They put me under the iron but I was still soapy from the laundry vats and I managed to give them the slip. I climbed up onto the iron to stay out of their reach." Gadget hesitated. She hadn't really had time to settle down and analyse what had happened in the laundry in her own mind. Now, talking about it was forcing her to confront some unpleasant facts. "I hurt some people, Bubbles. Hurt them bad. I think I put some people in hospital, maimed them for life even. I didn't mean to."

There was a silence.

"I don't think the judge will look too kindly on 'I didn't mean to' as a defence, Red. Who did you hurt?"

"I don't know, even. Just some people who were part of the crowd, they were trying to tear me to pieces and I was trying to get away. I didn't see their faces even. I used the steam from the steam iron to drive them back, and I think it fell on some of them." Gadget replayed it in her head. She was becoming increasingly unhappy with what she had done.

"How bad did you hurt them?"

"Bad enough for hospital, certainly."

Bubbles swore.

"Bubbles, there's more. Did the twins tell you Molly thought I had betrayed you to Haggs?"

"You can leave Molly to me. Once she knows Haggs played her for a fool she won't have a problem with it, hopefully."

"After Sheila stirred up the mob, Molly said the only thing for her to do was break my neck, before anyone else could do anything worse to me."

Bubbles swore again.

"She might have had a point, Red, but don't worry. Most likely they'll transfer you when they're ready to let you out of here. Then you only have to worry about bumping into someone from here who gets transferred after you do, by which time you should have made some friends to protect you."

"What if they don't transfer me?"

"I'll get out of solitary before you will and then I'll talk to Molly and straighten everything out with her. She was probably just worried that the mob would get you, she won't stay mad."

"Um, Molly climbed up onto the iron and I had to beat her off with a spoon, I think."

"You think? You aren't sure?"

"It could have been a Popsicle stick or something else, but I think it was a spoon."

There was a slight pause.

Bubbles swore.

"Okay, what happened after that?"

"I think Roxie might be dead but it wasn't my fault. She touched a live wire when she was climbing up the steam iron to get me."

"Do the guards know that?"

"No, and the prisoners think I murdered her."

Bubbles swore.

"Did you do anything else I should know about?"

"I broke the thing that lifts the iron and it ripped open that big plastic bottle of water they use for the steam and flooded most of the prison."

"Red! You've been kidding me this whole time! What are you really in here for?"

"It's true, Bubbles!" Gadget's own voice reminded her of an honest child, disgruntled at being called a liar for telling a tall tale that was actually true. "I think the flood took out the kitchens."

"You're the reason I didn't get any dinner?" Bubbles sounded as if she was re-evaluating their entire friendship based on that one point alone. "It was cauliflower cheese tonight. My favourite."

"I am truly sorry, Bubbles." Gadget hung her head. "I'm sure it'll be fixed for dinner tomorrow."

"Haggs is supposed to be off shift tonight. She'll be back on shift tomorrow. Tonight I was going to get food that Haggs hadn't added anything to. I haven't eaten anything since she started work this morning and I won't be able to eat anything until she leaves work tomorrow evening. That's thirty six hours, Red."

"She's been tampering with your food?"

"Yes. After what you've been telling me you may have to get used to the idea of losing some weight, too. Not that you weren't thin enough when you came in here. There are going to be a lot of people who want to get at you and who can't while you're in here."

Gadget's nose wrinkled. "I understand."

"I'll try and get something to you every so often, when I get out."

"I'll try and return the favour." Gadget replied. "My letter should reach home in a couple of days and then I'll be out of here. You'll see."

"Oh, Red!" Bubbles' voice was despairing.

171

Haggs made her way quietly to the solitary cells. She had brought several things with her in case they were necessary, hidden in a bag. She had a set of wrist and ankle restraints that prevented anyone moving their hands away from their waist or taking the smallest of steps, which was used when taking violent prisoners outside the prison. She had a set of sedatives from the special wing. She had the knife she had originally confiscated from Bubbles, which she had shown to the governor and been told to dispose of but had instead put in her staff locker until she could think of a better use for it.

Haggs smiled. She had wanted to bring other things as well. She had wanted to bring a camera; perhaps to photograph Ms Hackwrench doing something compromising and humiliating that would make blackmail possible, or at least furnish Margo Haggs with an enjoyable souvenir. She had considered bringing some highly illegal consumables from the contraband locker that would leave Ms Hackwrench a hopeless addict, easily controllable and entirely useless for the purposes of giving evidence. But photographs could also be used as evidence against a blackmailer and it took time for addiction to really bite. Margo Haggs doubted she had more than a single night to deal with this.

She took out her personal, secret copy of the skeleton key for the solitary confinement cells and opened the door to the corridor. She had stolen her way through the prison up to this point, because she didn't want anyone remembering that they saw Margo Haggs heading up to this part of the prison hours after she was supposed to have gone home, once her work had been discovered. But from this point on, Margo Haggs would stride as though she owned the whole world, people and human beings included.

She turned the lights on with a snap and made her way to the cell she wanted.

When she stood at the door, she took the knife from her bag. The knife's edge was sharp and glinted even in the half-light. It was the same knife she had given to Roxie, that Roxie had threatened Gadget with, that Gadget had taken from Roxie and hidden in her cell and that Haggs herself had found there after a brief search and used as an excuse to remove Bubbles from the cell so she could break the thief in private and find out where her swag was hidden.

Carefully, she put the key in the cell door and unlocked it. She knew a prisoner could kick a door open suddenly and catch a careless guard by surprise, so she unlocked it at arms length and was careful to step back.

"I've got a treat lined up for you." Haggs said. "Come on, let's be having you."

"Oh dear god, not again." A shaking voice said from inside the cell.

Haggs laughed and did not try to disguise the cruelty in the sound as she usually did. She reached out a long arm and, careful to stand where the door could not hit her if the prisoner threw her weight into it, opened the door.

The prisoner shrunk back as far as she could go, trying to postpone the awful moment when Haggs would claim her. All that Haggs could see of the helpless creature was the light glinting in her wide frightened eyes.

"I'll be angry if you keep me waiting." Haggs said. "Kitchens were closed tonight. Perhaps I can give you something to eat in exchange for coming quickly."

A faint sound of disgust came from inside the cell. "What is this? I know you were busy this morning, but you aren't supposed to come on duty again for another six hours at least. You shouldn't even be here."

Haggs snarled. "I've told you before. This is my prison. I come and go as I like, I do what I like and scum like you do whatever I say."

The inmate cowered.

Very slowly Haggs took off her belt. Her every gesture dripped menace. "Come here. You know how."

Shivering, Haggs' victim lowered herself onto the floor and advanced on all fours. Haggs raised the belt as if to strike. The prisoner cringed and Haggs smiled. She looped her belt so that it made an imitation leash and slipped over her victim's head, knowing that she expected nothing more than the same abuse she had already been subjected to.

Haggs jerked the makeshift leash tight. Her "pet" squeaked.

"Follow me, McGee."

From her worm's eye view, Bubbles McGee looked up miserably at her tormenter and hoped that she had the strength for what was coming.

172

Haggs had chained Bubbles' hands to the badly stained drainage grate in the floor. Haggs found it a good position to negotiate from.

"I've got a great deal for you." Haggs opened negotiations.

"Yeah, right." Bubbles had been in this situation before. She knew better.

"You can get out of here before anyone else in the prison. You can just walk right out."

Bubbles squinted at Haggs' shadow on the opposite wall. Was Haggs wearing a top hat? "You'll excuse my disbelief."

"After our last little interview, I never imagined that I would have to make a deal like this with someone in your-" Haggs made a point of circling Bubbles as if admiring the view "-position." She sighed. "Still, the world presents us with opportunities, doors that open, and with problems, doors that close in our faces."

Bubbles set her teeth. If it came to it, she would do her best to be a closed door to Officer Haggs.

"Of course, you have been presented with a unique opportunity." Haggs concluded her opening offer.

Bubbles waited for the first touch or blow. When it didn't come, she turned her head and tried to look at Haggs again. Oddly, although Haggs had moved and was standing in the wrong place to cast a shadow on the tiled wall beside her, Bubbles could still see the shadow of a rat wearing a top hat on the wall.

"You could be out of here before anyone; the short timers, your friend Red, even me. Wouldn't that be something? Red waving goodbye to you as you walked out the door to freedom?" Haggs embroidered her original offer.

Bubbles tried to squint backward at Haggs. She wished that shadow wouldn't keep moving when she was sure Haggs was standing still and wished it wouldn't keep still when she was sure Haggs was on the move.

Haggs' feet appeared less than an inch from Bubbles' nose. Bubbles squinted at the shadow in confusion. The shadow still seemed to be looking at her from behind, with interest even. Bubbles tucked her tail between her legs, nervously. She was fairly sure there was no one else in the room with her and Haggs.

"I said, wouldn't that be something?" Haggs insisted. She hated being ignored.

"Yes." Bubbles agreed. It was a no-brainer. She would love to walk out of here. To be completely honest with herself, waving goodbye to Red at the prison gate while pointing out she wasn't the only one with a quick way out of Shrankshaw was a deeply tempting fantasy.

"Yes, I knew it would. Of course, the catch is, she wouldn't be in a condition to enable you to actually bid goodbye to her. You see, this offer is only available if you kill her…"

Bubbles twitched. KILL RED? Her mind reeled. WHY? What would be the point? Haggs couldn't even claim the booty Red was supposed to have acquired while impersonating Gadget Hackwrench.

"Red has become a problem." Haggs elaborated. "I can no longer operate in a prison where she is working."

"Working? Working how? Is she doing too much laundry!" Bubbles had heard exactly how Red had taken out the laundry but every moment Haggs spent retelling the story was a moment Bubbles could think.

"I'm sure someone as smart as her has worked out how to open the guard's peephole and told you all about that by now. After all, it only takes you regular prisoners two or three visits to solitary to manage it and she IS Gadget Hackwrench." Haggs whispered the last into Bubbles ear as though it were an intimacy.

Bubbles assumed Haggs was mocking her, or Red, or both. She looked away from the ear Haggs was whispering into and saw two distinct shadows. One was clearly Haggs, bowed over Bubbles as though they were joined at the hips. The other wore a top hat and was seemed to be a male, standing far enough back to enjoy the show.

Bubbles shivered. This was not right. In fact, it was un-right in a way that deeply disturbed her. "I don't get it. Why would you want Red dead? All me killing her gives you is the chance to hold a murder rap over me. I know Red caused problems today. She didn't know when to accept a low place in the pecking order when she thought she could do better."

"Red's trouble for me. One way or another, she's a bad memory."

"I'm a thief, not a murderer."

"Oh? Well, I suppose I could always find someone who wants to get out of here more than you, if that's going to be a problem for you. Shouldn't be any trouble after today, in fact."

"Then why come to me?" Bubbles challenged.

"Are you trying to talk me out of it?" Haggs snapped back. "If you must know, you have an established motive and you're in the right place at the right time."

"How does my committing a crime for which I am such an obvious suspect translate into me walking out of here a free mouse?" Bubbles demanded.

"It would be more like getting sneaked out of here by me and then spending the rest of your life looking over your shoulder than walking out as a free mouse but you'd have your cut of your last job to help you on your way and you'd be free of me."

"What do you get out of it?"

Haggs laughed. "I get rid of her, McGee, and I get rid of you. Right now, that's all I want."

"I need to think about it."

"Here, let me help you think." Haggs snarled. She took hold of Bubbles' tail and lifted her entire body off the ground.

Bubbles yowled.

"Is all that blood rushing to your head helping you to think?" Haggs dropped Bubbles on her head then lifted her up a second time. "Now, what's your answer?"

"Not until I know why." Bubbles resisted bravely.

Haggs hesitated. "Ah, well here it is: Red's favourite little delusion, that she's Gadget Hackwrench? Well, here's the thing. I've done some digging and it turns out she's actually the real thing. Gadget Hackwrench." Haggs looked at Bubbles, watched as the pupils of Bubbles' eyes turned from wide frightened eight balls into to black tiny pin points. Haggs smiled. "Now, wouldn't you like to kill Gadget Hackwrench?"

173

Gadget had been too far away to hear Haggs' footsteps. From her point of view the lights in the corridor had come on and the guard's peephole had become a bright, punishing shaft of light that threatened to put out her eyes. She realised that her pupils must have grown in the dark until they were like black marbles set in their sockets, just as Bubbles' eyes had been when Haggs brought her in a few hours earlier.

Hearing Haggs' voice sent a shock through Gadget. Their conversation was muted and Gadget couldn't make out the words but the tone troubled her. Shouldn't Haggs be out looking for Jen? Or was it too late at night for that? Had Haggs even been out of the prison since they struck their deal?

Gadget pulled herself up the peephole with her eyes narrowed to slits against the glare and took a deep breath to call out.

Then common sense got the better of her.

Haggs, even at her most benign, would not respond well to an inmate shouting for her attention and if Gadget spoke to her then it would mean pretending that she still intended to live up to the deal she and Haggs had struck. Besides which, Gadget thought, she wasn't supposed to have the viewing hatch open on her cell door.

The door to Bubbles' cell door closed and Gadget heard one pair of footsteps recede, accompanied by an odd shuffling sound. The fact that she couldn't make out what the sound was, or what was happening, bothered her as much as anything else she could put a name to.

Her eyes were just beginning to adjust to the light when Haggs slammed the door at the end of the corridor and Gadget was plunged into darkness again.

"Like falling into a vat of ink." Gadget growled softly to herself. Her eyes would have to begin adjusting all over again. "Where could Haggs be taking her?"

Without Bubbles, Gadget felt lost and alone. She was pretty sure that both of the twins were too far away for her to carry on a conversation with and doubtful about whether they would want to hear from her anyway. That left her standing there, alone in the dark, with nothing much to do but sit back down again or start talking to herself. It would have been funny, she reflected, if it wasn't for the fact that she might be in here for a lot –

Something brushed past her ear!

Gadget spun. Her elbow cracked against a wall. She could see nothing.

There should be nothing there for her to see, the reasonable part of her mind insisted, but since the real reason she could see nothing was that there was no light to see by, could she be sure that she was in the cell alone?

Slowly, almost one by one, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

"Ratigan?"

She edged forward.

"Ratigan, are you in here? Because if so, you can't be!"

Breathing. She could hear breathing. There was another person in the cell with her. She could smell cigar smoke tainted with the tang of something else. Sulphur. Gadget tried to imagine a rational explanation and failed. In fact, her interest in rational explanations was rapidly declining.

"Ratigan?"

There was a sharp crack as the metal flap Gadget had forced open fell closed behind her. Although the sound was not loud, it was sudden and unexpected and Gadget jumped as though someone had fired a gun.

She didn't feel safe turning her back on the empty cell to lift the metal cover again but Gadget forced herself. This time she was unsurprised to find Ratigan leaning against the cell doorframe and pretending to examine the gemstone on the end of his cane. He looked nonchalant, as though nothing had interrupted their conversation at all and they had been chatting amiably the whole time, and he was humming a repetitive little tune that Gadget tentatively identified as "I know something you don't know."

"You were in the cell with me." Gadget accused.

"Was I?" Ratigan asked in tones of wonder and amazement.

"I felt you move past my ear just a moment ago!"

"Are you sure that was me?" Ratigan smiled darkly.

"Who else could it have been?"

Ratigan lit a match for his cigar. The flame lit his face from below with a ghastly, sulphurous glow.

"I hear they tell a tale of an inmate who was murdered in one of these cells. She made one enemy too many and they came for her in the dead of night while she was locked away, perhaps in this very cell."

Gadget opened her mouth to say she had heard this story when Ratigan supplied fresh details she had not heard before.

"They say it was a guard that carried out the grisly deed. The prisoner had struck a deal with her but was planning a double-cross and the guard got wind of it somehow. She got a knife she had confiscated from the very prisoner she was to kill and slit her pretty throat from ear to ear." Ratigan demonstrated on his own throat with a gesture, his grin itself mimicking the wound. "With her own knife."

Gadget gulped.

"Now the girl's unquiet spirit waits for release, not even knowing whether she's dead or alive. She spends eternity telling her self that freedom is sure to come with morning but each night she hears the ghostly footsteps of the guard coming to slit her throat again, and for her, morning never comes."

Gadget's hair was nearly standing on end. An irrational, emotional part of her mind was insisting that a ghost had just told her a ghost story. The stronger, rational part of her mind struggled with it intensely, barely maintaining control. Gadget reminded her self that she had been on edge for days. She was close to falling apart entirely. Even Dale could tell ghost stories, she reminded herself.

"Its not true." She insisted. "It's just a story."

"Look behind you." Ratigan blew out the match and disappeared.

Gadget heard the words and knew.

Something was behind her.

Her breath turned to cold steam as though her heart had literally become a block of ice. She had to turn around and look. There was no other thought, no other ambition in her heart or mind beyond seeing what was there.

Her muscles were rigid, inflexible as wood. Frozen, she knew seeing would bring her no release and yet with every moment she did not the dreadful need to see grew within her, until not knowing was worse than anything that could be behind her.

Gadget turned slowly, trying to delay the moment the last merciful shred of ignorance was ripped away from her mind.

A hunched figure, little more than a bundle of clothes, rested on the sleeping ledge. A dirty, unruly mop of long matted hair hung across the face of the lolling head, masking Gadget's unnatural companion.

Gadget drew a shuddering, terrified breath and wondered how she could have missed the _smell_. The scent of rotting blood and stale death hung in the air. It invaded her mouth and nose. It made every part of her unclean.

Almost operating with a free will of its own, her hand stretched out to touch the corpse. Gadget knew in her bones there was no hope it would prove to be an illusion but she HAD TO SEE THE FACE.

The corpse twitched.

Gadget became aware her mouth was murmuring the word please over and over again without any prompting or consent from her. Her hand continued to move towards the now reanimated corpse, seemingly of its own accord.

Gadget Hackwrench was no longer in charge of her own body.

The dead thing SAW her.

Gadget heard herself moan.

It stood.

It stepped forward.

Its lolling head lifted and the gore soaked curtain of hair that had concealed the face and throat parted to reveal a single ink black eye.

Its dripping hand rose to pull back the hair to reveal the lifeless face of the long dead, murder prisoner.

Gadget recognised it and the horror that had taken hold of her swelled and tore its way out of her body as a bloodcurdling scream.

She was face to face with her own corpse.

174

"Did you hear a scream?" Haggs asked, distracted and, for once, unnerved.

"No, I didn't hear a scream." Bubbles was feeling more confident now that Haggs had released her paws and given her the knife to toy with. "But then you tend to tune that kind of background noise out when you have to sleep here every night instead of behind a desk during the day."

Haggs rounded on her. "I don't recall giving you permission to insult me, McGee."

"Relax, Haggs. We're partners, right?" Bubbles gave her a cheesy grin and flipped the knife end over end with one paw.

"Just remember, I'm still in charge." Haggs growled.

"Sure, anything you say…" Bubbles agreed breezily "…Margo."

Haggs had turned away and started through the door. She just barely caught Bubbles adding her first name in a sotto voice and felt a hot flash of rage at the implication that Bubbles and herself were now somehow equals. She wanted to stamp on the idea – and on Bubbles – with all the force she had.

Instead she pretended not to hear and carried on. Payback would come when Hackwrench was dead and Bubbles was out of Shrankshaw. Preferably when she was conveniently standing somewhere that her body could be safely disposed of without any difficulty. Next to a ditch, for instance, or on the edge of one of the deeper, faster running sewer-lines.

Margo Haggs had no intention of risking future exposure or blackmail at the hands of someone like Bubbles McGee.

"Are you coming, or not?" The white rat called over her shoulder.

Whistling, Bubbles followed along as if she didn't have a care in the world.

Haggs made her way back to solitary with long, quick strides, forgetting that Bubbles' shorter legs would find the pace difficult. She was used to walking the corridors of Shrankshaw alone, just as she was alone everywhere else.

When Haggs snapped on the light switch at the doorway to solitary and looked around for Bubbles, the little mouse was so far back that Haggs nearly panicked. For a moment Haggs thought the sneak thief had double-crossed her and escaped on her own, ahead of schedule.

"What about the twins?" Bubbles asked when she arrived.

"What about them?" Haggs snapped.

Bubbles shrugged. "Won't they be witnesses?"

"They should be asleep." Haggs snarled. "Even if they're not, what does it matter? The idea is that you do this and everyone knows it was you, only it doesn't matter because you are nowhere to be found. If you do get caught and you end up back here then I'll look after you, we wait awhile and then you make another miraculous escape. It's like I'm your get out of jail free card."

"What if you're seen?" Bubbles asked.

"The viewing hatches on their doors are closed. If they manage to open them they won't see anything unless I walk right past the door. If the noise wakes the up, they'll only see you on the way out because I know how to duck. Just don't you say anything to them to give the game away, or you'll have to do a repeat performance, a what-do-you-call-it? An encore."

Bubbles blinked at Haggs as though she were a small child, unsure of whether an adult was teasing her or not. Haggs could practically see the cogs turning.

"You better not be thinking of double crossing me." Haggs snarled in a low voice.

"Who me?" Bubbles protested. "I wouldn't dare."

"You better not." Haggs poked her in the chest with each word. "You cross me, I'll tear you in two, McGee."

"Whatever you say, Haggs." Bubbles cringed.

At least it wasn't Margo anymore, Haggs noted with satisfaction. "Don't think I won't check to see if she's dead, either. I'm going to be standing right behind you watching everything. After you've done it, you're going to shut yourself back in your cell and wait for me to come get you."

Bubbles' jaw dropped in amazement. "No way!"

"Don't be stupid McGee. It's not as you can lock the door from the inside." Haggs growled. A hallway was a lousy place for this kind of argument. She was painfully aware the cell of the nearer twin wasn't that far away, albeit on the other side of two closed doors.

"All you have to do is turn a key while I'm in there, though!"

"Idiot! How would anyone believe you murdered her without help, if they found you locked in your cell the next morning? This has got to look genuine!" Because, Haggs added in the privacy of her own mind, at least one detective is going to be looking into this very closely. In fact, Haggs suspected that Chip Maplewood would be putting everything else in his life on hold and giving this particular case his full attention for the foreseeable future...

Bubbles looked suspicious. "I don't trust you."

"You can't back out now. You took the knife!"

"Take it back. You want her dead, she's just down the corridor, why not do it yourself?" Bubbles held the knife out with an open paw.

Haggs looked at her carefully. She needed to play this just right. If Bubbles didn't buy it and stopped co-operating then Haggs would be in deeper than ever.

"I don't want to get blood on my uniform." She said carefully.

Let Bubbles think it was cowardice if she wanted to. She'd find out different when her turn came. The truth was Haggs was reasonably sure the only way she was going to avoid being connected to the murder of Gadget Hackwrench was to make sure someone else committed it; someone who could tell no tales and wouldn't be missed.

Bubbles made a noise that could have been laughter or a snort of contempt. Either way she seemed to accept it. "Fine, whatever. Let's get it over with."

Haggs watched Bubbles McGee walk down the corridor towards Miss Hackwrench's cell. The little fool really had no idea what was in store for her, she reflected.

Haggs had planned McGee's disposal in advance. One of the things she was carrying with her was a rolled up sack just big enough to take McGee's body. A guard escorting a prisoner through the prison itself would not attract attention but Haggs wasn't so sure she would be able to walk out the gate arm in arm with an inmate. She would find a quiet spot and tell Bubbles to get into the sack so that she could be carried out of the prison. Bubbles would be heavy but Haggs was sure she could manage the mouse's weight and still be able to carry the ballast she that would make sure sack and occupant sank without trace when dropped into one of the murkier parts of the human sewer system.

Haggs derived particular pleasure from the thought of Bubbles obligingly climbing into the sack of her own free will, not realising that the bag's inside would be the last thing she ever saw.

When Haggs caught up with her, Bubbles had another question.

"I still don't get how people are supposed to think that I unlocked two cell doors, one of them from the inside."

Haggs handed over a key. "Here. This skeleton key will open every door in the prison. I took it from the warden's office when I was helping the clean up operations. I'm going to leave it in the last door we unlock before we leave and make it look like someone swiped it and snuck it up to you in the confusion after the riot and flood."

"Who?"

Haggs shrugged. "What's it to you? You'll be gone. If they make a big thing out of knowing which particular scumbag helped you, I'll bully someone into confessing."

"So how come this mythical accomplice didn't escape with me?"

"Will you stop stalling? I want this over with quickly."

"Okay." Bubbles turned away.

"And make sure you leave something so they know it was you."

"Are you serious? Like what?"

"A bloody paw print on the wall, some of your hair under her nails, that ought to do it." Haggs rubbed her eyes.

The key trembled in Bubbles' hand. Truth be told, she was scared to hell. She reached out and unlocked the cell door. She opened the door a crack and peered through. Red was silent. Was she sleeping? Bubbles peered into the dingy cell and tried to make out the form within.

Odd.

Something was wrong in there.

Bubbles slid through the half open door like a cat slipping into a shadow.

Haggs watched her go and shivered. She wasn't a murder, Haggs told herself, and she wouldn't be one even when Bubbles returned, job done. Bubbles would be the murderer and when Haggs gave her the end she so richly deserved, it would be nothing more than an execution, albeit an unofficial one. The thought of herself as an executioner rather than a criminal was reassuring one and eased her mind considerably. There was, Haggs reflected, such a thing as natural justice.

Bubbles emerged from the cell. She looked Haggs straight in the eye with a resigned and cynical air.

"Is it over?" Haggs demanded. "I didn't hear anything."

"Yeah, I did my part." Bubbles said. "But someone else let us down."

"What are you talking about?" Haggs snarled.

"Red stood us up. She's not in there."

"WHAT!"


	26. Opening All The Wrong Doors

_**Disclaimer**_

In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone… except a certain kind of lawyer.

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

**Opening All The Wrong Doors**

175

"I can't believe you killed Dale Oakmont! I can't believe you killed Dale Oakmont!" Geegaw was hopping up and down in a frenzy.

"Will you stop saying that? You were the one who insisted I stick around to rewrite my confession!"

"Don't remind me!"

Lawhiney looked at Dale's crumpled form on the floor of Gadget's workshop. Something about it made her feel terribly sad, though since she couldn't hear any running feet or shouting outside she had presumably gotten away with it for the time being and Gadget's workshop had plenty of closet space.

"Poor stupid klutz." She eulogised. "Ten minutes later and he would have missed me. He could have had the pick of anything he wanted in here."

""'Poor stupid klutz.'" They should carve that on his tombstone." Geegaw reproached her.

Lawhiney opened her mouth to say that it was probably what Chip would say and stopped because she suddenly realised it would be true. Chip and a great many others probably would say that about Dale when they worked out what had happened. Suddenly she felt sorrier for Dale than she ever felt for anyone (who wasn't her).

"Aw, heck, Geegaw. I didn't want this I swear I didn't. I'd rather have planted a big wet kiss on his lips than laid that monkey-wrench on his head."

Geegaw wrung his hands and railed at himself as much as Lawhiney. "I've shown you and told you what would happen if you didn't change. For weeks I've been telling you! Later, you've always said, I'll change later! Well now there's no more later, Lawhiney, because now you're a murderer!"

"You healed me, you can heal him." She pleaded.

Geegaw looked at her sadly. "No, Lawhiney. I'm your guide, not Dale's. I can't even whisper in his ear. You're the only one who could have done anything to prevent this."

"Tell me what I can do!" Lawhiney begged him.

"Do? I've been telling you what you have to do for weeks! But look what you've DONE!" Geegaw reached out to Dale as though he was about to shake hands and welcome him to the afterlife. "Lying and causing trouble. That's all you're good for, Lawhiney!"

"That's not all I'm good at!" Lawhiney whined.

"No, you're good at one other thing, let's not leave that out!" Geegaw roared.

"Hey!" Lawhiney glared at Geegaw, who in her opinion was neither helping, nor shouldering the share of responsibility that she felt was rightfully his. Ironically, there was a poster on the wall behind him that seemed to graphically illustrate the sort of thing he had hinted was her specialty.

Lawhiney blinked. She didn't remember Gadget having that kind of thing on her walls.

Then she realised what she was looking at.

"You're right, I am good at that!" she piped up cheerfully.

"Well it wasn't a compliment!" Geegaw was amazed. Her tone lacked anything resembling contrition. In fact, it was closer to delighted surprise.

Lawhiney ran at him and for a moment he thought she going to give him a demonstration. He dodged and she ignored him totally in favour of ripping a poster off the wall.

"This is it! This is the solution!" She muttered to herself, trying to make sense of the diagram on the poster. Geegaw looked over her shoulder, trying to make sense of her and it at the same time.

"Resuscitation techniques and electrical shock treatment." Geegaw read out loud. "Electrical shocks in the work place can stop a the heart and lungs. Quick action is essential to prevent brain damage." Geegaw shook his head. "Do you think there's still time?"

"Well, he hasn't shown up to kick your tail for not being a better guide yet."

"I meant to prevent brain damage."

"He was stupid anyway, no-one will notice." Lawhiney's voice had an edge of hysteria in it. "Geegaw, I need you to read the instructions to me while I help Dale. Will you do that? Are you allowed to still help me?"

"It says to put him on his back and tilt his head so his mouth is pointing up. Then open his mouth and check for obstructions like false teeth or chewing gum with your fingers. They suggest using something to prop his jaw open if he has sharp teeth."

"I'll risk it." Lawhiney said and poked her fingers into Dale's mouth. "What next?"

"Check his breathing and pulse."

"We already know he's not breathing. How do I check his pulse?"

"Same place yours is." Geegaw pointed to a spot on Dale's arm and Lawhiney pressed two fingertips against it with an expression of intense concentration.

"I think I actually feel something but it's like a twitching muscle or a nervous tic, not heartbeat. Shouldn't it be going ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom?"

"No, that's a human heartbeat, only really big creatures have hearts that slow." Geegaw told her. "Ours are more like raindrops on a glass roof."

"It's very irregular."

"Try and get him breathing again while there's still something there."

"How?"

"Open his mouth, pinch his nose closed with your fingers of one hand while holding his jaw open with the other, put your mouth to his and exhale strongly down his throat."

Lawhiney followed Geegaw's instructions like an expert. One breath. Two breaths. Three breaths.

"Check his pulse again." Geegaw commanded.

Lawhiney began moving her fingers up and down Dale's arm. She seemed to be having difficulty finding the same spot as before.

"That's it, right there. You had it right the first time." Geegaw pointed.

"I can't feel it." She looked up at Geegaw, her face stricken. "Geegaw, I think it's stopped!"

"Put your ear to his chest and listen."

Lawhiney pulled up Dale's Hawaiian shirt and put her ear to the ruffled fur of his chest. The sudden intimacy of the situation after two months of keeping her distance from everyone around her set off a chain of associations like a string of firecrackers in her head. There was only one way she would be this close to a male normally and her racing hormones didn't help. She wanted to snarl at herself with disgust but forced herself to keep her head in position and listen.

Finally she looked up at Geegaw. "I can't hear anything."

Geegaw took a deep breath. "Okay. Let's start CPR. Kneel by his chest and lock your elbows so your arms are straight. Put one palm on the centre of his chest and the other on top of the first one. Then rock backwards and forwards so that the weight of your upper body is coming down on his chest. You want to keep a rhythm going. I'll beat out time for you."

"Thanks." Lawhiney said through clenched teeth.

Geegaw began tapping one foot in the rhythm of a small heart fighting for life. It was almost like listening to the clockwork of Gadget's inventions. Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock.

Lawhiney was throwing herself backwards and forwards with a rhythm and energy she found disturbing and familiar. The harder she worked at saving someone's life, the more she felt cheep, tacky and worthless. It wasn't right, she told herself, she was doing a good thing and that shouldn't make her feel bad.

"Lawhiney, he's going to need another lungful of air."

Lawhiney barely heard Geegaw. Dale was the one who was dying but she was the one seeing her life flash before her eyes. She opened his mouth, breathed deep and felt something like a guilty secret, or a sin, leave her with the air she gave to Dale. When she sat up and resumed working on his heart, there were tears spilling down her face.

Geegaw watched the tears fall and wondered what price redemption would come at if Dale's death was the cost of repentance. Movement in the corner of the room caught his eye. Was that shadow on the wall something like a chipmunk? Did that shaft of light from the desk lamp have a hint of bright Hawaiian colour dancing in it like a butterfly?

"Lawhiney, it's not working." Geegaw hissed urgently. "I think all you can do is tell him you're sorry before he goes."

Lawhiney sobbed and refused to look at him. She picked her self up from where she was kneeling next to Dale's body and repositioned herself so that her legs straddled him. She interlocked her fingers and raised her paws over her head to bring them down in a hammer blow to Dale's heart.

Geegaw watch Lawhiney fight to undo the harm she had done, fearing that it was too late yet hoping the very fact that she had become the sort of person who would try to save someone who was a threat to her would be enough to upset all previous predictions.

Lawhiney lowered her ear to Dale's chest and listened for a heartbeat. She heard nothing. Dale's chest sounded as empty as her future. She righted herself and hit him again.

In the back of Lawhiney's head a dozen tinny remembered and imagined voices snidely compared this situation to the kind of private moments from her past that she preferred to stay private.

She raised her paws and hit Dale a third time to make the voices go away.

Dale twitched and coughed. At the sound of Dale's first wheeze, Lawhiney made a triumphant noise that even she could not identify. She watched Dale breathe with the rapt joy of a mother watching her baby take it's first breath.

Geegaw sighed with relief.

Then the door to the workshop opened.

176

Chip stood frozen in disbelief.

He held a rodent sized bottle of milk in one hand that spilt, unnoticed, down his jacket. For one, then two, then three horrible seconds he took in the scene. Disordered workshop. Dishevelled friends. He could not believe it and then she looked up. He saw her and she saw him.

Chip flinched.

It was her smile that did it, that triumphant look of someone who had gotten just what exactly they had wanted after a long time waiting. The flush on her face and the state of her hair and clothes made it pretty clear that she had worked hard for it too.

Dale sighed from underneath her and his head rocked to one side as though he had fallen asleep.

Gadget cringed. Her expression crumpled into one of dismay, misery, embarrassment, and sympathetic pain.

After that would come the pity, Chip knew. If there was one thing that he would not be able to withstand, one thing that would break him as a male completely, that one thing was her pity.

Gadget hung her head, her hair reached down to the floor, a curtain that hid both Dale's face and hers from the chipmunk in the doorway.

Chip knew he had to say something or do something to break away from this moment or he would never leave it.

"I'm sorry. Please excuse me. I didn't realise I would be interrupting… something." The last word wavered as it came out and Chip knew it was time to close the door.

He did so.

177

"What just happened?" a mystified Lawhiney asked Geegaw.

Geegaw stared after Chip with a slack jaw and astonished eyes. His expression slowly relaxed into an I-could-have-told-you-so look and he waved a finger at the closed door with a cynical grin. "Would you believe that's the clown the greatest detective of all time has chosen to follow in his footsteps?"

Lawhiney blinked. "I don't get it. Why didn't he arrest me? I thought he'd take one look at what I did to Dale and send me right back to hospital."

Geegaw arched an eyebrow at her.

Lawhiney stared blankly back at him with all the innocence Gadget was famous for. Geegaw could have railed at her for being cruel and heartless if she'd been faking it. The problem was that she just genuinely didn't get it. He looked her in the eye and then pointedly at the prone Dale, who still lay under Lawhiney, then back to see if she had caught on.

Lawhiney looked from Geegaw to Dale and back again, then repeated the performance much faster as she realised what Chip had been thinking. She began to go red from the toes up.

"Oh lord, I don't know why I'm so embarrassed." She said. "It's not as if Dale and I were ACTUALLY doing anything." She laughed. "I mean, even if we had been, it's nothing I haven't done in front of – uh, never mind." Lawhiney winced and looked away from Geegaw quickly.

Geegaw glared at her and tried to find a suitably dire pronouncement. A few feet away a real person was probably curled up in a ball of pain, sobbing over a broken heart because of a stupid misunderstanding that should have ended with Lawhiney being hauled off in handcuffs. As the only conscious representative of justice, light and mercy in the room, he ought to be telling her off for finding it funny.

The trouble was, he found it funny too.

"Well, I should have known it wouldn't be long before you stopped looking all innocent and showed your true colours." He growled finally. "I'm afraid to ask but how you would have finished that sentence if you hadn't remembered who you were talking to?"

Lawhiney laughed nervously and toyed with her hair to avoid looking at him.

"Alright then, if that question is too painful to answer, perhaps it might not be too much to ask how Dale is doing?" Geegaw suggested.

"Dale? Oh, Dale is, uh, wait a minute-" Lawhiney put her head to his chest "-alive! Yep, Dale is alive and making all those wheezy breathing noises and digestive gurgles people are supposed to."

"Try opening his eyes. See how close he is to waking up."

Lawhiney lifted an eyelid. "Um. Looks like nobody's home."

"Try the other one."

Lawhiney did and stared in surprise. "His pupils are different sizes."

"That's a concussion. With any luck, it'll wear off by morning." Geegaw tried to be optimistic.

"You think I should leave him here?"

"I think you should put him in the recovery position, then go get him some medical attention before confessing everything to Monty." Geegaw looked at her and remembered what Gadget had looked like when she was small and wanted something but didn't want to ask for it in case Daddy said no. He sighed. "But you're not going to do that, are you?"

Lawhiney shook her head and managed to look a little sorry as she did so.

"Alright, Law. Tell me what you are going to do. I'm past the point where I'll get mad, but I don't think I can take any more surprises."

"I want to hide him out of sight and sneak a few things down to the ranger skate, which I'm going to steal and drive to the docks so I can catch a freighter out of here."

"And you'll pay for the ride with your charm and good looks, no doubt?"

Lawhiney smirked at him. "I don't think you want to know how I was thinking of paying for the ride."

Geegaw stared at her coldly.

"Actually, I was thinking of paying for it with the ranger skate. Once I scrape off the markings it should be worth plenty in the right corners of town. Geegaw, you are just too easy."

Geegaw threw back his head and looked at the ceiling. "Easy. Do you hear that? She calls me easy."

Lawhiney stood up and walked over to the chest where Gadget kept the tarpaulins and bags for her inventions. She stopped half way there and blew a raspberry at her guide.

"A few minutes ago you were begging me to help." He reminded her. "Now you're shining me on. I'm going to remember this the next time you get yourself into a jam. Speaking of which, isn't the ranger skate a little too distinctive to sell on the quiet, even without its markings?"

Lawhiney was trying to find a Dale sized sack from Gadget's store. "Com' on, Geegaw, you're all holy and stuff. How much are you gonna know about the black market?"

"I know that it's not going to be easy to find a reliable fence at short notice at this time of night, unless you already have one."

"Perhaps I could pretend to be Gadget one last time and sell it openly."

"It would be noticed."

"True. How about – ah, this sack is big enough for Dale. How about I just take something that's worth the price of a boat ride."

"Lawhiney, I know you haven't really had time to think about what just happened but Dale could still die, you know, especially if you stuff him into a sack and just forget about him. From the way you were acting back then, I don't think you want that. The right thing to do now is to get him some medical attention."

"I'll leave him somewhere he'll be easily found." Lawhiney promised. "Whoever finds him can take care of it."

"If you're hoping he'll be found what's the point in hiding him?"

Lawhiney hesitated. "I could just leave him laying there. Gadget has a sign up, not that anyone seems to be paying attention to it tonight. He could be here undisturbed for a while."

"In which case, he could die." Geegaw said with the finality of a man who thinks he's just won an argument with a woman.

"Like you said, Dale ought to have medical attention. After I've left, that is." Lawhiney shook out the sack.

178

Haggs shoved Bubbles to one side and flung the cell door wide open.

The cell seemed even smaller, exposed to the light. It was plainly empty.

"It's not possible." Haggs said. She was speaking more to herself than to Bubbles. She put her paws either side of the doorway as though that was the only thing holding her up. "Is there an air vent she crawled out of? No, it's too small." She leaned further into the cell. "Is she hiding under the sleeping bench?"

Bubbles watched as Haggs bent over to look under the shelf without the slightest thought for anyone standing behind her, or of modesty. Shaking her head, Bubbles turned away politely and found herself nose to nose with Red.

Bubbles blinked rapidly, half expecting Red to disappear again like a phantom. Instead Red hugged her tightly and Bubbles had to reposition the knife quickly, to avoid keeping her deal with Haggs by accident.

"No. No, that's too small. No way could she hide under here." Haggs muttered to herself, still trying to puzzle it out.

Red and Bubbles looked at each other and, as one mouse, each applied their shoulders to Haggs ample behind and shoved with all their might.

Haggs roared, a terrible sound of confusion and rage that seemed even louder in the normally silent corridor. She was upside down, her weight on her shoulders and her back against the edge of the sleeping shelf. Looking up at her assailants she saw both Bubbles and Gadget, partners in crime, framed by the open doorway of the prison cell.

Gadget slammed the cell door and threw her shoulder against it to hold it shut. Bubbles added her weight to it, to buy them time. From inside the cell came the sound of fury and of Haggs righting herself.

The rat threw herself at the door but together they were able to hold it closed against her weight. In a moment, Bubbles knew, Haggs would recover herself and bring her full strength to bare on the door. Bubbles opened her eyes and saw the key still sticking out of the padlock.

"Oh, yeah." Bubbles murmured to herself, remembering that she had put it there just seconds before. She reached out and snapped the lock shut.

"You can't hold me in here forever!" Haggs threatened.

"We can try!" Red returned bravely. Then, in a more desperate tone of voice, she added: "Bubbles, do you have anything we can jam the door with?"

Bubbles spun the key around on her index finger and chuckled. "Oh Red? I think you can stop leaning against the door now."

"Huh? Oh! How did you get that?"

"What, this little key? Why, it was still in the lock."

Haggs' furious eye appeared at the guard's peephole and glared at them both. "McGee! You'll regret crossing me! But it's not too late, you can still make good. Our deal stands, McGee! I'll let you out if you make good on it."

Bubbles gave a short, emotionless laugh. "Funny thing, all I ever planned to do was jump you while Red here was playing possum. I guess you'll have all night to work on your explanation for how Red and me got out of our cells and shut you up in there, but somehow, I don't think that what you come up with is going to be good enough. Goodbye, MARGO."

Bubbles slammed the flap on the viewing slot shut and grinned broadly.

"Bubbles, are you okay?" Red hugged her again which, given the absence of their normal prison uniforms, was unsettling. "I was worried sick when she hauled you off and then after the mob tried to kill me I just forgot all about it and when we talked earlier it was all about me and I didn't even stop to think about what you've been through, but I promise, we're going to sit down and I'm going to make you tell me every little detail…"

Bubbles briefly remembered and already missed the one good thing about being in solitary, namely the absence of an insane little motor mouth who was determined to chatter away until they were both ready for canvas overcoats. Kindly, because she had missed Red too and didn't want to spoil the moment, she put her hand over her friend's mouth.

"Red, I think we're going to be too busy escaping to do that."

Red looked guilty and swayed from side to side like a child who had a guilty secret to confess. "I kept telling myself that I wasn't going to escape. That I shouldn't give up my principles just because they made a mistake and put me in here when it wasn't right."

Bubbles held Red at arm's length and looked at her. For a moment she was worried her friend was going to burst into tears. It sounded like Red was looking for approval for something and it took Bubbles a moment to work out what it was.

A wry smile tugged at Bubbles mouth. "You got out of that solitary cell pretty quick though."

Red looked at the door to her cell. "There's something terrible in there."

"Yes," Bubbles agreed, "it's a big, ugly sewer rat by the name of Margo Haggs but she's in there and we're out here and there's nothing to worry about except how we're going to get out of the prison and what will happen if anyone catches us."

"No, that's not what I mean." Red said uneasily. "I saw that rat again, the big male one who dresses in a top hat and cape, like he was a stage magician or something. He started visiting me when I was in the padded cell in the special wing."

Bubbles looked sideways at her. "Was that before or after they started medicating you?"

"After - never mind that now. He was telling me that old ghost story of Darla's and I turned round and the dead girl was behind me. I've never been so scared in all my life."

"Trust that screwball bat to make things worse instead of better." Bubbles muttered grimly.

"I must have broken a world record for breaking out of a prison cell." Red said unhappily. "All it took was for something to scare the wits out of me."

"A smart person would have gotten scared and broken out a long time ago. Say, how did you get out, anyway?"

"Someone had used a bent paper clip to make the handle on the bucket we're supposed to – "

"Yeesh, Red, I know what the bucket is for."

"I unbent it and picked the lock through the slot in the door."

Bubbles smiled. "Gadget Hackwrench would be proud of you."

Red shook her head sadly. "If only you knew, Bubbles."

"Speaking of Gadget Hackwrench – " Bubbles broke off and began to laugh. "Heh, you'll never believe this but your little routine must have finally gotten under Haggs' fur. She's convinced you're the real thing and she wants me to kill you. She's scared you're going to tell everyone how she runs things in here. Thinks you talking about it would hurt her career. Ruin her promotion prospects." Bubbles laughed and soon Red was laughing along with her.

"That's the dumbest reason for trying to kill me, ever. It's even dumber than the guy who wanted to use my body to make chocolate mice! Or the guy who thought I was talking too much."

Bubbles remembered the key and snatched it out of the padlock. "Haggs said this was a skeleton key that could open any door in the prison. I'm going to free the twins!"

"And then what?" Red called after her.

Bubbles looked back at her and grinned. "Then we're getting out of here. Don't you know a jail break when you see one, Red?"

179

Lawhiney crept through Ranger Headquarters as quietly as… well, as a mouse. Of course, since she was a mouse it didn't really give her much of an advantage, or hope of avoiding an awkward conversation with one of Gadget's friends.

She didn't want to leave Dale in Gadget's workshop floor until someone found him but at the same time doing anything else seemed to be impossible. He had already stopped breathing once and if it happened again when no one was there she would be a murderess. She had pulled a sack over him and propped him up against a wall to conceal him from casual eyes while she was still in the tree house.

Silently she opened a door and slipped through into a darkened room. Whatever Chip Maplewood's faults as a detective he was the serious, responsible member of the group and anything of tradable value would probably be kept in his study.

Chip's study was in darkness. The small, well-kept room was furnished with a few choice pieces of quality furniture that looked professionally made. Lawhiney took a brief moment to admire Chip's taste, thinking that it suited the detective perfectly, before she went over to desk and started opening the drawers.

Top right drawer.

Writing paper, stationary, a few pencils and one good fountain pen.

Middle right drawer.

Magnifying glass, camera, film for the camera.

Bottom right drawer.

One bent and creased photograph of a teenage squirrel with dewy eyes – Tammy, Lawhiney remembered – and a sappy message penned on the back that didn't mention Chip by name. Assuming it had been intended for him, he hadn't taken very good care of it. Lawhiney wondered for a moment whether Chip had taken the photograph and, if so, just what he was thinking by encouraging the silly girl.

Under Tammy's photo was a set of four scrapbooks labelled with dates. The Rangers press clippings, Lawhiney realised. Hesitantly, she opened the top book from the back and flipped through the blank pages to see if any stories that were about her had infiltrated Chip's record of the Ranger's triumphs.

The last story in the most recent scrapbook was her own release from hospital, with a quote from Chip asking the press to respect Gadget's privacy until she had recuperated. Before that was a less favourable story about the rangers failure to capture Pierre and Lorrie the mole after Brandon's attempted "kidnap" of "Gadget Hackwrench". Before that was the media's version of the raid on the museum and the crash of the Ranger plane. And before that…

Before that came the stories of the heists and confidence tricks Lawhiney had pulled with her gang. The venom in some press ink was strong enough to sting even through Lawhiney's thick skin. In fact, some of it even managed to shock her because it was along side the stories of the good the Rangers were doing and those stories were filled with a lavish, almost salivating praise that the press seemed to have reserved especially for Gadget Hackwrench.

She turned a page.

More stories about the tricks she had pulled.

At the time she had been on the move from one job to the next, too busy to notice the consequences of the things she had done. They were laid out for her here, carefully presented and annotated by Chip's neat, precise handwriting. Here, a story about an orphanage that had been forced to close after she had defrauded the trustees under the headline: "Free to a good home". There, a piece on an office clerk who had been sacked after he trusted her with the keys to a safe. Below that was a notice of a divorce where "Gadget" had been named as a co-respondent. A teenage fundraiser had been held accountable when the funds disappeared with "Gadget" and had been forced to empty her college fund to pay everyone back. The list seemed endless and these were just the consequences that had made it into the papers that Chip could get hold of.

Dimly, Lawhiney began to sense the scale of her wrongdoing.

How could anyone expect her to reform with such a mountain of crime behind her? Even if she just drew a line under her old life and started again, she could live as a saint until the age of one hundred and still not balance the debt she owed to the world. Geegaw, or whoever had assigned him to her case, had surely been mad to give her a second chance.

"I guess there aren't really any second chances in life." She said aloud.

"No, I guess there aren't." Chip's voice came from the darkness in answer.

"Chip!"

Lawhiney had never thought he might be sitting in the darkness of his study. It hadn't occurred to her to wonder where he might have gone after seeing her with Dale. In the shadows she could just make him out sitting in a large armchair in the corner of the room. His hat was on the table next to the armchair, along with a reading lamp and an upturned book.

The silence seemed to fill up the darkness between them. Lawhiney's mouth was dry with fear. Had Chip been waiting for her to break in? She was trapped. She was stuck behind the desk. He could certainly reach the door before her.

But Chip's hat was on the table.

If there was one thing Lawhiney was sure of, it was that Chip would be wearing his fedora if he had just sprung a brilliantly conceived trap. There was an upturned book under the hat but Lawhiney was sure he hadn't just been sitting there reading when she first tried the door handle. For one thing, it didn't make sense that he would have turned out the reading lamp instead of simply asking: "Who's there?"

"I think what you were looking for is in the top left drawer." Chip said. His voice was husky.

Hesitatingly, Lawhiney opened the drawer, half expecting to see a pair of handcuffs in there. Instead there was a glossy framed picture of Gadget and a small black jewellery box.

Chip was in love with Gadget.

Lawhiney had worked it out weeks ago but forgotten when became apparent that the Rangers' main form of in home entertainment was seeing who could pretend for the longest that they hadn't noticed, a game that Chip and Gadget were so far the clear leaders in, as far as Lawhiney had been able to gather.

She popped open the jewellery box. Inside it was a diamond ring.

Looked like Gadget had won the Rangers' favourite party game.

"Is it…?" Chip seemed to be having difficulty speaking.

"Oh yeah. Exactly what I was looking for." She smiled and fluttered her eyes at him. "In fact a diamond like this can be used to focus laser beams." She had seen that in a James Bond movie and hoped Chip didn't know anything to the contrary. She snapped the box shut. "It's just what I need for my latest invention. Can I borrow it?"

"Oh Gadget." Chip sounded mortally wounded.

"I'll bring it back when my experiment is finished." Lawhiney lied without pity.

"You don't understand." Chip pleaded.

Lawhiney held up Tammy's photo and added the coup-de-grace. "She's growing into a beautiful young creature. I hope you and she will be very happy together, as happy as Dale and I am."

Chip sat there in stunned silence. He stared at her with his jaw slack and in a terrible instant Lawhiney realised that she had gone much, much too far.

As she replayed the last few seconds in her mind, Lawhiney realised that Chip would have helped her pack, seen her safely to the harbour and bought her tickets on the Ranger's credit if she had just told him the truth about who she was and what he had seen in Gadget's workshop. There was nothing that he wouldn't do for that second chance in life that had been given, so irrationally, to her.

Now it was too late.

She could see him crumple inwards on himself as though his spirit were collapsing and she knew that "only kidding" wouldn't buy him or her the relief and freedom that they needed.

"Well, have to go now." She said in her brightest Gadget voice.

She left Chip to himself in the darkened room, the diamond ring in her pocket, but Geegaw had done his work well enough that she took a moment to feel just a little sorry for the person she had just destroyed.

180

"Now come on girls. She didn't mean any harm and it's because of her that you're both out now."

"Yeah, what Bubbles said!" Gadget squeaked from her hiding place behind her friend.

The twins were in no mood to take prisoners.

"You should have heard what the warden had to say to us!" The left one hissed.

"I've never been so embarrassed in my entire life." The right twin snapped.

"She's been punished already! Sheila's crowd nearly lynched her." Bubbles pointed out.

"Poor baby. Tell her to come here so I can rub it all better." Right twin held up her paws and mimed wringing somebody's neck.

"Has she any idea what its like to be alone with Haggs in that white room?"

"YES! She horrible!" Gadget yelled from behind Bubbles.

Everyone stared at her.

Gadget looked back at them, her large eyes pleading them not to ask for details.

"Can we just get out of here?" she begged finally.

Bubbles looked at the twins. "So how about it girls? Is she forgiven?"

The twins looked at each other and shared a wicked smile. "Nah, we want to see you give her a spanking first, Bubbles..."

Bubbles glowered. "Do you want to get out of here or not?"

"It's not much but it's home." The left twin observed.

"Still, be nice to take a holiday." The right twin pointed out.

"So it's settled then? We're escaping and no horrible crunchy revenge on Red for landing you in solitary?"

The twins held another brief, silent conference.

"We'll escape first…"

"Good!" Bubbles smiled.

"…but we'd still like to see you spank her!"

Bubbles slapped a paw over her eyes and wiped downwards like Barney Bear used to in the old cartoons. "It would be easier to escape from this place with my kids in tow than you three."

"So long as we are escaping, do you suppose it would be possible to find where they put our clothes?" Gadget asked plaintively.

"It had better be! You can't hide behind me for the whole night!" Bubbles retorted.

"Little cupboard in a storeroom opposite the search room." One of the twins put in. "I saw it when I was waiting for my turn with Haggs."

"Great. I can't wait to put on a prison uniform again!" Bubbles turned on her heel, leaving a startled and embarrassed Gadget exposed to the twins. She was half way down the corridor before she realised what she had just said and stopped dead in her tracks. "I can't believe I just said that!"

181

Geegaw's face was too deeply hidden in the shadows of his hooded robe for Lawhiney to read his expression but if his tone was any indication she wasn't missing anything she wanted to see.

"I felt a great disturbance in the force… while I was watching to make sure no one discovered Dale and that he didn't suffocate in that plastic rubbish bag you stuffed his helpless body into while he was unconscious. Lawhiney, what have you been doing?"

Lawhiney gulped. She couldn't really see his eyes in those shadows, they weren't glowing it was just her imagination.

"Well, it's like this. You see…" the words were automatic. They came naturally like a cough or a hiccup, to buy her time while she thought of an explanation.

Normally if some tattletale was going to run to authority and expose Lawhiney, she would simply discredit them or turn on the charm and ask the listener to make a choice between her and the sneaking, trouble-stirring little gossip who had informed on her. The trouble was, this was Geegaw she was dealing with, the only being she had ever dealt with who could expect to hear about the truth from a more convincing source than her if she lied.

Lahwiney pictured herself asking Geegaw, in a high-pitched and tearful voice, just who he was going to believe, her or the Almighty?

Even Groucho Marx had drawn the line at asking people to choose between believing him or their own eyes.

Geegaw waited. He knew it was important to give her enough time to reach her own decision. He knew, by now, that it would be the wrong decision when it came and then he would be all over her, but he was a good enough guide to know that he had to let her make her own decision before he could do his job.

Lawhiney finished some internal conflict that had stalled her excuses and looked up. Geegaw noticed immediately that the child-like air she usually had when she was trying to talk her way out of trouble was gone.

"Okay, here's how it is. Chip's in love with Gadget. He's been in love for ages and he hasn't said anything to her. Then he walked in while I was giving Dale the kiss of life and he got the wrong idea. He's sitting in his study right now, with the lights all out, not even crying or drinking. I broke in to get something I could swap for a tickets out of this city and I found this." Lawhiney held out the jewellery box and opened it so that Geegaw could see the mouse sized ring inside.

Geegaw pulled back his hood and blinked at her. "Chip's in love with Gadget?"

Lawhiney stared at him. "I thought you knew that? You didn't know that?"

"Does she love him? They've been living under the same roof for years, how far has this gone?" Geegaw stopped as though an ugly thought had tapped him on the shoulder. "Are you telling me that while I was watching Dale, so I could warn you if anyone found him before you got back, you went and stole my daughter's engagement ring so you could flee the country? While she's rotting in jail for YOUR crimes?"

Lawhiney looked him directly in the eyes.

"Yes, Geegaw." She said softly. "That's how it is."

And the hurt and disappointment she saw in Geegaw's eyes was the worst thing she had ever seen.

"Did you do anything else I should know about?" Geegaw yelled at her. "Did you find time to lie to congress or start a war while I was making sure you didn't become a murderess?"

"I can't help it." She said miserably. "Doing wrong comes as naturally as breathing to me. I don't deserve a second chance. I know that now."

"Second chance? You didn't even deserve the first one!" Geegaw berated her.

Lawhiney was unbent by Geegaw's stormy temper. "It's who I am and I can't change. I see the truth of it now. I make no excuses. Not even for Saint Peter."

Geegaw blinked. She had recognised reality for what it was, which was the first step to changing it. She had owned up to her faults, which was the first step to repairing them. He was seeing her at her worst and yet in the middle of it all he could see the bedrock of redemption.

"Go on." He told her as he tried to recall what else his training as a guide had taught him.

"I guess there really isn't anything more to say. I'll understand you probably want to go back and wash your hands of me." Lawhiney looked at him sadly. "I'll miss you. Thank you for seeing something in me that I couldn't see."

Geegaw sighed deeply. "Lawhiney, you have no idea…"

"Monty." Lawhiney said.

"Gadget-luv? It's good to see you up and around but shouldn't you be getting some rest? It's been a big day for you." The big Australian mouse spoke with gentle concern. He had appeared at the end of the hallway and conceivably could have been loitering just beyond and heard everything, but he looked tired and distracted and gave no sign of suspicion.

"I was just going to visit Jennifer. I want to tell her the good news and get out of the tree house. I've been going stir-crazy." Lawhiney's Gadget imitation was perfect.

"Isn't it a little late to go visiting, Gadget?"

"Oh no, she works a late shift at a bar, remember? She wouldn't be at home any earlier than this." Lawhiney improvised from memory.

"I suppose… Are you sure you're up to it, though?"

"I'll spend the night at her place."

Monty scowled. "This tree house is starting to remind me of the time I took a sea cruise on the Marie Celest. Zipper's turned in early, I can't find Chip or Dale and now you're taking off."

"Chip's in his study. I don't think he wants to be disturbed." Lawhiney said, truthfully. Continuing in the same vain she added: "Monty, I've been going stir-crazy cooped up in this place. I really want to enjoy my freedom while I have it."

"Guess you never really appreciate something until you don't have it any more, ay? All right, then Gadget-luv…"

Lawhiney winced. "Will you do something for me, Monty? There's a big heavy rubbish sack in my workshop and I didn't feel up to moving it."

"You want me to chuck it off the branch out back into the human litterbin?"

On a slightly different plane of existence, there was a strangled gasp.

"I think there are still some humans about in the park, the nights haven't started to draw in yet. I'd leave it until just before bed if I were you. I know I'm being lazy but would you mind emptying my wastepaper bin into the sack first?"

"Don't worry your pretty little head, Gadget. It's as good as done. Now, if I can just find Dale before that movie he wanted to see is completely over, perhaps he'll still be speaking to me tomorrow." With a nod of his head, Monty continued what Lawhiney hoped would be a fruitless search.

"What have you done?" Geegaw wailed at her. "How can you stand there and thank me for trying to help one moment and then, with me watching, trick my oldest friend to killing Dale?"

"I did not! Dale will be fine." Lawhiney hissed out of the corner of her mouth, not sure Monty was out of earshot yet.

"You think a fall like that won't kill him? The state he's in?"

"I told Monty to empty the wastepaper bin into the sack! He'll see Dale and look after him. You want Dale to get medical help don't you?"

"What if he forgets?" Geegaw shouted at her.

"Okay, fine! I'll pin a note on the bag telling him to look inside." Lawhiney snapped back. "I have to go back to the workshop for my suitcase anyway!" She began to stomp away and only looked back to call over her shoulder. "In fact, what are you still doing here? Shouldn't you have gone back to cloud city to tell everyone that I'm a hopeless case?"

"Why? So they can cancel the ticker-tape parade?" Geegaw yelled back.

By the time Lawhiney was at the door to Gadget's workshop she was fairly sure she had left Gadget's father behind for good and that if she was going to be haunted from now on, it would have to be by the ghost of Dale. So when she opened the workshop door and Geegaw was standing there, it was all she could do to stop herself from screaming.

"Don't do that." She scowled at him. "In fact, what are you still doing here? Checking up on me? I told you I had to come back here for my suitcase anyway…"

Geegaw sighed heavily. "Law, if you wanted to drive me away, I doubt you could come up with something more effective than the work you've done in the last hour. But being your guide isn't about whether I want to be with you, it's about whether you're ready to go it alone."

Lawhiney picked up the pad on which her confession was still written. She flipped the page and wrote on the next page:

Dear Monty –

_I'm really Lawhiney, Dale is unconscious in the rubbish sack and my confession is in the envelope on the desk. _

_Yours truthfully, Lawhiney. _

_P.S. Your walnut wallaroos are wonderful. Thanks._

_L. _

Lawhiney tore the page out carelessly and left it sitting on the seat of Gadget's draftsman chair, which she positioned facing the door next to the paper rubbish sack Dale was laying in. She took a moment to peer into the sack and check on Dale. Dale was looking bad but he was breathing and she folded the end of the sack instead of tying it again to make sure things continued that way.

Finally she straightened and looked Geegaw in the eye. "I'd say the moment for me to go it alone has arrived. I've done what I can to make sure Dale's okay and the confession should get Gadget out of jail. Hopefully I'll be long gone by that time."

"What about when you reach that little town where you're going to marry a good mouse and go straight?" Geegaw enquired.

"You'll be welcome to visit. I could probably use a hand, settling in. I haven't stayed in one place for very long since I was a child."

"You are going straight then?"

"I… don't know. I don't think I can." Lawhiney was checking the contents of her suitcase in a way that said she was all business.

Geegaw looked at her with a stricken expression. "Lawhiney. You know what will happen to you if you don't go straight. You know what will happen if Roche is orphaned."

"I know what will happen if he's raised in an orphanage." Lawhiney answered flatly.

Geegaw watched her with an expression of mounting horror and disgust. "You know and you don't care? I thought – I could have sworn – that you wanted to be Roche's mother, that you genuinely cared and now it's like you can't wait for them to take him away!" Geegaw accused.

Lawhiney rounded on him. "Roche is MY child! I don't like it when people try to take away something that's mine!"

"And that's all there is to it? You think he's going to be a fashionable accessory to go with your latest outfit, the way your mother treated you?"

Lawhiney's face darkened as if a shadow had fallen across it. "I'd never treat a child the way my mother treated me! No child of mine is going to be dressed up like a doll, rehearsed like a performing animal and used as a conversation piece to show off at coffee mornings."

Geegaw folded his arms. "No, he's going to passed from one soulless institution to the next until he falls off a roof."

Lawhiney looked stricken. "Geegaw, it's not like that. I want to go straight, I just don't think I can and it's only a matter of time before they catch up with me and take Roche away. I want to find someone good to look after him, someone who'll raise him properly and take care of him. You'll help me, won't you? To make sure that they're the right people?"

Geegaw scowled. "No."

Lawhiney opened her mouth to protest but Geegaw cut her off.

"Now listen to me, kiddo. There are a lot of ways you can spin this but whichever side up it lands, it comes down to you dumping Roche on someone else and taking off to repeat all your old mistakes. It won't work, Law, because you're not the person you were before you got your wake up call from Saint Pete. Whatever you told yourself about your crimes before, you see them for what they are now."

"I see myself for what I am now!" Lawhiney held out her hands to him, even though she knew he couldn't take them. "I want to change, I just don't think I can."

Geegaw smiled at her, in spite of everything. "Laurel, seeing yourself for who you really are is the first step to change. You can't get anywhere with your eyes shut."

182

"I didn't think getting our uniforms back would be so easy. They didn't even lock the cupboard door and you know how easy it is for things to get stolen in this place."

"You sound like you're complaining."

"Well, kinda."

"Will you two keep it down back there? The last thing we need is for someone to hear us."

At the end of a long and dark corridor, from around an anonymous grey corner, there emerged the head of an escaping felon: Gadget Hackwrench. A moment later Bubbles' head emerged directly above Gadget's and was shortly joined by the head of each twin.

"Coast clear." Whispered Gadget.

"Oh good." Said one of the twins. "Because, frankly, I think I'm about to fall over from having to lean past you two to see."

"Uh, who's hand is that?" Gadget asked.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Sorry, I put it there to help me balance." Bubbles said after conducting a quick audit of her upper limbs to see what they were doing.

"I am going to be so glad to get out of this place." Gadget said with uncharacteristic slowness.

"The easiest way out of Shrankshaw is through the human prison up above." Bubbles changed the subject rapidly. "The solitary cells are actually the highest part of Shrankshaw but there's no way to access the human prison from here so first we have to go back down and along to the infirmary."

"The medical wing?" Gadget asked nervously as they began to creep along the empty corridor.

"Not the special medical wing, where you were kept. The infirmary is where they patch us up after the fights and give us something to make whatever bellyache the food in here has given us go away."

Gadget paused. It followed that the infirmary would also be where most of the people she had hurt in that fight would have ended up. "Won't that be a little crowded?"

"Huh?" Bubbles looked at her questioningly. "Oh yeah. I forgot that little story you spun. I'm kind of curious to see how bad it really was."

"I don't think you will want to be friends with me when you see how bad it was. Couldn't we go out the way we came in?"

"We sneak through the entire prison, past all the guards, and out the main gate into the sewers? And then we wait for the next barge bringing new arrivals so we can hitch a lift, hmm?" Bubbles arched an eyebrow at Gadget like a sarcastic schoolteacher. "I know it's difficult, but just try to leave the thinking to me."

"Sorry." Gadget said, feeling stupid for perhaps the fourth time in her life.

"That's okay. Now, I'll go first. If I run into a guard I'll try and warn you. If I'm caught, I'll try and distract them so you three can surprise them and rescue me."

Bubbles ran lightly down the corridor and stopped at the next corner, where she stopped to listen. She turned and gestured to them to follow and then she advanced down the next corridor the same way. The little group of escapees repeated this procedure for some time as they made their way through the prison until they reached a pair of double doors under a sign reading "Infirmary".

"Okay," Bubbles told them, "behind the infirmary is the main stairwell which goes to every level of the prison. It's made out of an old human airshaft and it's two feet wide so that just about anything the law abiding authorities choose to pilfer from the humans, without being charged with endangering civilization as we know it, can be lowered to wherever it's needed."

Gadget grimaced. She has almost forgotten that Bubbles had been jailed for endangering the safety of animal society by robbing a human warehouse. Human property was regarded as both an easy target and fair game by most creatures, particularly in places that had not been claimed at territory by another group of animals. Therefore it was often a cause of resentment when the authorities, which could seemingly commandeer anything they wanted, stepped in and jailed an individual for doing the exact same thing.

_I'm helping three convicts break out of jail._ Gadget thought. _What am I thinking? _

Then, before she could answer her own question, a second thought came to her: _No, they are helping me to break out of jail. _

Almost by habit, Gadget brought out the moral algebra that she had used in what now seemed to be a previous life, and began to work out the right thing to do.

"Someone's coming!" Bubbles hissed. "Quick, back around the corner."

The trio carried Gadget back into hiding with them.

As the others breathed deeply and peeped nervously round the corner to keep watch, Gadget stood with her back against the cool wall, calmly watching as her ethical equations fell into place.

"It's the Deputy Governor." Bubbles whispered.

Marion Cedar was standing in front of the infirmary doors making notes on her clipboard.

There were three convicts who might stay free and doing wrong for the rest of their lives, Gadget reflected. She was one person, wrongly convicted in a blunder that was sure to be discovered before long.

"Just be patient. She'll finish up and move on any second."

The good she might do in the short time she would gain on the outside was not going to out-weigh the bad the others might do in the lifetime of crime, no matter how she made the figures dance on her imaginary blackboard. The more she rechecked her calculations the more obvious it was that the right thing was to prevent their escape by raising the alarm.

Marion Cedar was standing not twelve inches away and all Gadget had to do was raise her voice. Bubbles and the twins would surely never forgive her. Haggs would undoubtedly find away to avenge herself. But right would be done.

Yet the more she thought about it, the more remote and irrelevant her moral algebra became, like a memory of a past life that no longer had any meaning for her. Gadget sighed and let the Greek letters and arcane mathematical symbols fade from her mind's eye. She didn't care.

Gadget knew what the morally right course of action was but she wasn't going to take it, simply because she didn't want to.

183

"She's moving on." Bubbles informed them. "We'll just wait until she's out of earshot."

Marion Cedar's footsteps retreated down another corridor. There was a sound of a barred gate being closed and locked before Bubbles spoke.

"Okay, we're clear. We just have to get through the infirmary without waking anybody and out the back into the main staircase. The walls of that staircase are all metal and the shaft runs through every floor of the prison, so the slightest noise could wake up the whole prison." Bubbles walked up to the double doors to peak through one of the round windows. "I hope you exaggerated your fight story, Red, because this will be a lot easier if the infirmary isn't crowded…"

Bubbles stared in disbelief. Every bed was occupied and cots had been moved into the gaps between the normal beds to take the overflow of patients. Half the infirmary ward seemed to be in plaster casts and the other half seemed to be in bandages. After a moment she heard movement behind her. For all she knew it could have been a guard but she couldn't tear her eyes way from the scene of devastation to look.

"Will you look at that?" Said one of the twins.

"I am looking. It's incredible." The other replied.

Bubbles looked sideways.

Some of the people in the beds were undoubtedly known to all them, perhaps even friendly with them, yet there was no denying the note of admiration Bubbles heard in the voices of the twins. Bubbles felt some of that admiration herself, that one person had done this because someone had tried to mess with them, yet perhaps for the first time the feeling disturbed her.

These were people lying in those beds.

What kind of world had she chosen for herself, that so much pain could be regarded as an achievement?

She felt a sudden shiver rise up her spine as she remembered that Red was silently standing directly behind her.

Together, all three of the escaping convicts turned to look at Red as if to ask how so much trouble could come in such an innocent and apparently harmless little package. Red smiled nervously and waved the fingers of one paw at them in return.

"Red? Could you come here a moment?" Bubbles asked in a carefully neutral tone of voice.

Red looked at her feet like a small child expecting punishment.

"Come on. Come on over here." Bubbles urged her, gently.

Red edged forward reluctantly until she was standing in front Bubbles and the doors to the infirmary. Bubbles nodded to the nearer window.

"Look through that window." Bubbles ordered her, feeling a little more assertive at seeing how submissive Red was being.

Red went no closer to the door but went up on tiptoes to see from where she was standing.

"You did that?"

Red nodded meekly, as though admitting to upsetting some crockery.

"You little psychopath!" Bubbles hissed as loudly as she dared. "What on Earth is wrong with you? I mean, for crying out loud, how could you? I mean just… how?"

"I told you, they hauled me under the steam iron and they were going to lower it on to me so I made one of them burn their arm on the iron so they would let go of me and the people holding on to my legs would pull me out the other side and then I bit a couple of them and climbed up on the iron and knocked off anyone who tried to climb up after me and then things got really bad and I made the iron swing back and forth until it tore open the water tank and the water hit the electrical cable with the faulty insulation…"

Red's voice was getting smaller and smaller as she babbled and it truly was the vintage, stream of consciousness, babbling that Bubbles had gotten used to from her strange, naïve cellmate who never seemed to be aware of anything outside her own head. Bubble stared at Red and let the words roll over her without listening to them because she was too busy watching Red's expression. Bubbles saw tears in her friend's eyes. Did psychopaths weep for their victims? Who knew what a psychopath did except for another psychopath?

Bubbles held up a paw to turn back the flow of words. Red stopped talking little by little, not slowing the words or slowing down, but leaving longer and longer pauses between breaths until her last sentence was left abandoned in mid-air.

They stared at each other for a moment.

"I'm sorry." Red apologised simply.

"Okay." Bubbles replied. "We're going to have to go through there now, all of us, and I think you should go first."

"Does that mean you still trust me?"

Bubbles, who had never considered Red to be dangerous before now and was finding that the idea took a little getting used to, looked away in embarrassment. "Sure I trust you… right up front, where I can see you."

"But that means you trust me, right? That you wouldn't expect me to suddenly raise the alarm or anything out of last minute moral qualms about breaking the law by escaping to correct a miscarriage of justice?"

Bubbles rolled the last question around in her head and decided that it was a joke, albeit not a very funny one. She responded in kind. "Ah, if we should inadvertently wake anyone up and we suddenly find ourselves at the heart of an enraged mob determined to tear you to pieces, just try not to be surprised if I should happen to yell out: "'Here she is girls, I brought her right to you so you could wreak horrible crunchy revenge to your heart's content!'" It'll just be a cunning ruse on my part to make them think I'm with them instead of you."

"So you'll be able to rescue me and we can still escape?" Red asked, hopefully, over her shoulder.

"Yeah, sure Red. If I can find a bucket to carry the pieces away in…" Bubbles pushed her friend gently through the door.

184

"Dale's breathing is steady at least." Lawhiney said, her tone as clinical as any nurse's.

"Perhaps it's best to leave him out of the bag." Geegaw suggested.

"No, someone might look in before Monty thinks it's time to go to bed." Lawhiney was frowning as she listened to the chipmunk's breathing.

"Well, if I can't talk you out of it…"

Lawhiney answered him by pulling the paper sack back up over Dale's face. Then she went to the small round window positioned in the corner of Gadget's workshop, where it could let sunlight shine on her draftsman's drawing board.

"Going to see if the park is deserted?" Geegaw asked.

"The park closes at eleven but it's not the sort of place that you can just lock up and humans don't always respect their own rules. Even if they do, there are plenty of communities with a night life that puts the human race to shame."

Geegaw chuckled. "Well, that's only natural. After all, humans are only supposed to be active during the day."

"I can't see properly."

"That would be because it's dark outside."

"It's because the window is too small. I can't get the catch open."

"Gadget probably made it herself." Geegaw explained. "Let me have a look at it."

Geegaw peered at the lock and recognised it immediately as a vintage Gadget design, cobbled together from whatever she had to hand, probably in ten minutes flat. He smiled at Lawhiney. "Let's see. That's a safety pin, wired to some fishing line. She's got one end wrapped around a soda bottle-top that's glued to a beer bottle cap cog. Ah, that's it. She's got an old electric toothbrush motor hooked up to it. Just follow the wires and, here we go, push the button next to her drawing board."

Lawhiney pushed the button and nothing happened.

"Part of her "'I'll-make-it-up-as-I-go-along'" catalogue by the look of it." Geegaw said and poked his head under the desk. "The battery has run out. Guess she was too absent minded to replace it. Well, there must be a spare around here somewhere."

While Geegaw's back was turned, Lawhiney reached out and unpicked the knot that attached the fishing line to the safety pin latch. The safety pin opened with an audible twang, surprising Geegaw enough that he forgot he was under a workbench and stood up, his head passing right through the hard wood as though it were no more than a shadow.

Lawhiney stared at him in amazement.

Geegaw looked at the bench and grimaced by reflex. He couldn't resist the impulse to check the back of his head for blood he knew couldn't possibly be there. Old habits died hard, as he often reminded himself, and some days he suspected that was the only reason he was still walking and talking.

"Ah-ha. Lucky I'm already dead or that would have really hurt." He joked.

Lawhiney suspected that if he'd actually been alive what he had to say would have involved words he had been careful not to teach Gadget when she was growing up. Instead she asked: "If it had been serious enough to actually kill you while you were alive, would that have made it more lucky or less lucky?"

Geegaw stuck his tongue out at her.

Lawhiney arched her eyebrow at him. She was fairly sure that was something he'd picked up from her and it occurred to her, not for the first time, that she was a bad influence on her Guide. She stuck her head out the window as much to hide her expression as to check that the Ranger's neighbours weren't holding a fiesta in the bushes around the tree.

"Looks clear." She said a moment. "Hey, were you checking out my rear?"

Geegaw smiled wryly. "No. Were you checking mine when I had my head under the desk?"

"Ha! You wish!"

"Shall we get moving?" Geegaw gestured to the door.

"You said you were going to be my look out." Lawhiney reminded him. "Shouldn't you check ahead?"

Geegaw rolled his eyes. "Sure, why not? You could use the time to tidy up in here. Dale tipped the whole waste bin over the floor when you whacked him. That way Gadget won't have to come back to a mess after she gets out of the prison cell that's supposed to be for you!" Without looking back to see if Lawhiney would follow his suggestion, Geegaw walked through the closed workshop door.

It was a good ten minutes before Geegaw returned. He found the contents of the litterbin still on the floor and Lawhiney doing her makeup.

"Better not let the rangers see "'Gadget'" like that." He commented. "They'll think she's going out for a night on the tiles."

"How about you do your job as a lookout and no one sees me?" Lawhiney reminded him.

"How about I do my job as a guide and smite you for not turning yourself in?" Geegaw responded.

"Aw, come on Geegaw. Is the coast clear or not?"

"Yeah, it's clear. Monty is watching TV and wondering where Dale could have disappeared to and Chip is in his room looking through his stuff."

Lawhiney shivered. She picked up the suitcase and looked around her. "Feels like I'm leaving home for the first time." She announced.

"Well, you were running away then, too." Geegaw pointed out.

"Come to think about it, that didn't feel at all like this. That felt good and spiteful, you know what I mean? I hoped that all sorts of bad things happened to me and then they would be sorry they didn't treat me right." Lawhiney mused. "It feels more like what I thought leaving home for good would feel like before I started rowing with my folks and decided to run away."

Geegaw smiled at her sadly. "Does it feel like when you left the island?"

"A little, but that felt a little daring because I had to sneak past the guards they had set to watch me. This just feels like… leaving." She shrugged.

Geegaw lifted an eyebrow and spoke from the corner of his mouth. "You want I should organise a pursuit, or should I just pretend to be chasing you down myself?"

Lawhiney appreciated the joke. "Nah. Let's just slip out like I planned." She smiled and opened the door.

Perhaps Lawhiney assumed that the last one out would get the door and simply forgot that Geegaw couldn't touch physical objects. Perhaps she had spent so long impersonating Gadget that she was becoming absent minded herself. Whatever the reason, they left Gadget's workshop with the door wide open.

It was just past midnight when Lawhiney stole out the front door, appropriately enough with a battered suitcase that was also stolen.

Geegaw produced a candle from the sleeve of his robe to light her way safely down the small, discrete steps that spiralled round the trunk of the Ranger's tree, so Lawhiney made her escape following a light in the darkness that only she could see. If that too was appropriate, Geegaw's grim demeanour gave no sign of satisfaction at the thought.

"There." He said when they reached the ground. "It is done, to quote one of the old hands upstairs."

"Thank you for helping me Geegaw."

"You're worth it. Don't let yourself forget that, even when it's hard work."

"I'll have you to remind me." Lawhiney smiled at him.

"I'm afraid not." Geegaw shook his head. "You've forgotten what I told you about my supervisors while you were in that bath this evening."

Lawhiney frowned at him in puzzlement.

"There are a lot of people who aren't at all happy with me." Geegaw reminded her. "They don't think I've been doing a very good job on you and, well, I told you that I was just a probationary guide, right?"

Lawhiney looked worried. "Are you in trouble?"

"No more than I've been in before, you could say. You should have heard them when I turned up looking as pale as a wisp of smoke after I healed your leg this afternoon." He shook his head. "They didn't like that at all."

"Surely they won't replace you, I mean, you're MY guide right? I don't want anyone else!"

"They've already done it, kiddo. They hauled me up in front of half a dozen supervisors and told me what they thought of me. I'm off your case and out of the program. Now, don't go getting sentimental." He held up a paw to forestall her protests and, he suspected, tears. "I knew what I was getting into when I took your case – no, wait, I take that back! I never imagined what a nightmare being your guide would be! You've been a real education, Law. Too bad I won't be a guide after tonight because after you I could take on anybody."

"Geegaw, don't go!" Lawhiney was tearing up. "I don't know what to do without you."

"Ah, spare me the waterworks. I've been no good for you anyway, Laurel. Tonight proved that if nothing else."

"You don't have to go!" Lawhiney pouted. "You're here now without their say so!"

Geegaw laughed. "For your information, my pass expires at dawn." He pulled a face. "Expires, now there's a word I hoped not to hear again. Anyway, after tonight I'll be in quite enough hot water without going absent without leave."

"So that's it? You're leaving me?" Lawhiney looked at him as though she were a little girl and Geegaw was suddenly aware of how young she was and that he was leaving her alone in a big, dangerous world where anything could happen.

He tried to smile at her. "Ah, kid, it's not like that…"

"The hell it isn't!" She whined. "After all your high talk and promises, all the hard times we've been through, you're walking out on me like any other damn male with itchy feet."

Geegaw recoiled at the words. He tried to tell her that things weren't the way she said they were but his mouth betrayed him, opening and closing silently. Even Geegaw couldn't tell whether it was heaven's way of making sure its agents didn't lie, or whether he was just plain speechless. The only answer to Lawhiney's tears that made sense to him was to reach out and brush those tears away, to hug her and comfort her until everything was all right again, and that was the one answer he couldn't give her.

Finally he turned away and spoke to the sky as if testing to see if he still had a voice. "Well, how about this? First she can't stand the sight of me, now she doesn't want me to go. Isn't that just like a woman?"

Lawhiney's eyes darted about fearfully. "Are they here now? The people who are mad at you?"

"No." Geegaw smiled ruefully to himself. "At least I don't think so. I was just thinking aloud. Law, it's better that I go now. If I hang on to dawn, I might be tempted to stay on a little longer and then there really will be…" he pulled another face and let the sentence trail off.

"Hell to pay?" Lawhiney finished the thought for him. "So I really won't see you again?"

"Ah, I'll hang around in the wings as long as I can, in case you have a crisis or something. Knowing you, you probably will… otherwise, I'll see you at the pearly gates, ready to help you through with a good kick in the posterior." Geegaw forced a laugh. "You make sure you keep me waiting a good long time, too Law! Just not… forever."

Lawhiney had been busy pouting at her feet while Geegaw spoke so it was only when the last word whispered across her like a sigh that she looked up and saw that she was alone.

185

Margo Haggs raged like she had never raged before. In fact, she was close to insane.

She pounded at the door and clawed at the corners. She hammered at it with the iron bolt that she used as a nightstick. She kicked it and hurt her toe. She roared at it to open, because in her fury her first instinct was bully her way to what she wanted, even when the obstacle was inanimate, and not to call for help from a friend.

Haggs' whole life had been lived under the enormous tension that came from opposite extremes in close proximity. Freedom and imprisonment, order and corruption, arrogance and humiliation; Haggs had not just lived with them. She had been all of those things to fullest extent she could comprehend.

Her childhood in a human research laboratory was partly to blame but so were the long years afterwards, when she had wandered the world without direction or purpose and experience had honed her survival instincts into the brutal weapons they now were. Now those weapons were going off like firecrackers and she was trapped in an enclosed space with them.

She couldn't see what else she was trapped in an enclosed space with because she was, depending on your point of view, just on the right or wrong side of the line between sanity and madness. Had she been actually insane and not merely within kissing distance of it, she could have had an actual conversation with Professor James Ratigan. As it was she could make out snatches of his words and got them tangled and confused with her own thoughts. Sometimes there were moments when she thought she could hear voices, either in her own head, or from someone talking at the end of a corridor much longer and darker than the one outside her cell door.

"Y_ou think someone is going to come and let you out but when they find you in here they might as well not bother…" _

Haggs screamed with frustration.

"_…and they will find out. You can rely on scum like that to pass on everything they know when they get caught, especially everything about you and the Warden and all her soft liberal judge friends will lap it up because it's what they've always wanted to hear."_

"OPEN! OPEN! OPEN!" Haggs yelled at the door as she hit it again and again with her nightstick.

"_You'll be one of them … the hand of every inmate and guard will be turned against you." _

"YOU CAN'T KEEP ME IN HERE. THIS IS MY PRISON, I GO WHERE I WANT!"

Haggs put her feet against the small stone shelf that was meant to be a bed for someone much smaller than her. The cell hadn't been built for someone as big as her and she was strong too, perhaps the strongest person in the entire prison. She put the middle of her back to the door and strained her whole body against the lock.

The lock, the little human made lock, intended for luggage or perhaps a young girl's diary. Probably not even the size of one of their thumbnails, Haggs thought as she felt her spine creak under the pressure.

The thought brought back memories of the men in white coats, their big hands and impossibly towering bodies that seemed doomed to fall at any moment under their enormous weight. The needles, the smells and the cages with their tiny, pathetic, childishly simple little locks that had been just barely out of reach for so long. Haggs remembered the feel of gigantic human fingers, thick as legs but with extra joints, wrapping round her, the vertigo when they picked her up and most of all the taste of blood when she bit down hard.

The taste. The taste was real. The blood was real. She was back in the lab and the thing she was straining at with her whole body was the vice like grip of a human hand as it tried to crush her for having the impudence to hurt it.

There was a loud crack. Haggs couldn't tell if it was the door or her back breaking. Her eyes flew open.

Impossibly, she was nose to nose with another rat, a male she didn't recognise. He was dressed in old-fashioned clothes and reaching out as if to take her face in his paws. His face was one big leer and his eyes were a mirror to her own, full malice and rage.

The door burst outwards, the hinges and the lock failing together. It flew across the hall and crashed to the floor as Haggs landed on her back, hard, without feeling it.

She could still taste blood. She had bitten through her own lip without notice while she was straining at the door. All memory of her flashback to the lab sank swiftly into unconscious darkness as Haggs' mind buried it like a murderer shovelling dirt into a shallow grave. Her fleeting glimpse of Ratigan went along for the ride, courtesy of the mind's powerful urge to defend itself from madness.

The half-light of the corridor flooded the solitary cell, revealing it as empty. Haggs accepted the evidence of her own eyes without thought or question and immediately forgot she had ever seen the rat in the top hat. Her thoughts were jumping around like fleas on a hot stove and the one that was jumping highest was revenge.

Revenge.

Catch Gadget Hackwrench and Bubbles McGee and tear them to shreds. After that, nothing mattered. She would make the twins watch and make sure it was enough to frighten them into saying whatever she told them to say.

She was up and running on all fours before the echoes from the crashing door had died away.


	27. Gadget's High Wire Act

_**Disclaimer**_

In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone… except a certain kind of lawyer.

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

**Gadget's High Wire Act**

186

Gadget found herself standing very still a few inches into the infirmary ward. True, there was open space in front and on either side of her for several inches in every direction but the sense of security that should have given her was offset by the fact that she was in a room with at least a dozen people who had recently tried to kill her. Admittedly some of them were in plaster casts now and didn't look like they would be terrorising her or anyone else anytime soon.

She crept forwards between the rows of snoring, wheezing, occasionally burbling victims of the flood – her flood – and felt her insides tighten with fear and anticipation of certain discovery.

Gadget was almost at the halfway point when she froze in mid-step or rather mid-tip-toe. She had heard a noise and it was not the unconscious, unembarrassed sound of a sleeping inmate. It was a careful, purposeful sound, made by someone who was trying to move without making any noise at all. Someone was following her.

The noise stopped when she did.

Gadget waited for a moment, her pulse heavy in her throat and her mouth dry. The sound had stopped when she did. As a ranger she was used to reviewing her options in a single heartbeat during the heat of a life or death crisis. She could call for Bubbles and the others but that might wake an inmate. She could turn and prepare to defend herself but any sudden movement could have the same effect. If whoever was moving was trying to remain hidden too, presumably they would not risk waking the inmates by attacking her, Gadget reasoned. She began moving quietly through the ward again and the sound started again.

Gadget could feel the hairs lift on the back of her neck but she ignored them.

Someone was behind her, someone who meant her harm. She could feel it in her tailbones. In a few more moments she would be at the double doors at the end of the ward and then she would be safe. Relatively speaking, of course.

She reached the doors. Carefully she stretched out a paw and pushed against the doors to freedom.

They were locked.

Of course they were locked. It was so obvious that Gadget almost said it out loud. Had she really thought that in a prison of all places the doors that lead to a stairway that could take you anywhere in the prison, including to the back door, would be left ajar so anyone could just wander through them in the dead of night.

The sound came again from behind her.

Gadget turned slowly, expecting a guard, most probably Marion Cedar, to confront her.

It was Bubbles.

Behind Bubbles the twins stood frozen like statues as though they were children playing a party game.

They weren't going to escape. Gadget looked into Bubbles' big brown eyes and wondered how to break the news. To keep the silence unbroken, Gadget sidestepped and allowed Bubbles to try the door herself.

Bubbles arched an eyebrow and held up the key she had taken from Haggs.

Gadget could have kicked herself.

Bubbles inserted the key, which Haggs had claimed would open every door in the prison, into the lock. She turned the key and was pleased to hear a click. She tried the door with one paw. It opened, ever so slightly, but with a creak that seemed loud enough to wake the dead.

All four of the escapees winced and looked round at the sleeping inmates. No one seemed to have moved.

Bubbles turned back to the door and pushed it open a little further, her nose twitching at the smell of damp and ruin beyond. She peeked through the crack in the door and saw that in fact, all that was beyond was a short hallway with a doorway to an examining room on one side, a heavily locked door to the drugs storeroom on the other, and another pair of double doors at the end. The doors at the end had another pair of round windows and through them Bubbles could just make out the main staircase that she had told the others about. Her heart started beating more quickly. They were really going to get out of here.

Bubbles opened the doors as wide as they would go. The twins slipped through, followed by Gadget. Bubbles stepped through after them, taking care not to let the doors shut with a bang.

The escapees looked back at the long ward and the sleeping riot it contained. Together they breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"I really didn't think we were going to get out there without waking someone up." Bubbles dared to whisper.

BAM!

Bubbles' heart skipped a beat. The crash of the double doors at the far end of the ward being thrown open was sudden and deafening.

"WHERE IS SHE? I'M GOING TO RIP HER HEAD OFF!"

Before Bubbles' heart had even picked up its rhythm again the first cries sounds of distress, of fear, of pleas for mercy, started from the helpless inmates.

Haggs stood spread eagled at the end of the ward, her long arms pinning the doors wide open against the cracked plaster of the walls. Her hair was wild. Her eyes were blood red and her face was contorted by a terrible fury unlike anything Bubbles had ever seen before.

"We're gonna die!" wailed the twins, hugging each other in terror.

The inmates in the beds began screaming and crying with fear as Haggs stomped through the ward, turning her head from side to side to glower at them.

"She's here! She's here too!" One of the terrified inmates cried out.

It was not until that moment that Bubbles realised that Red, against all sense, had stepped back into the ward as though to meet the enraged Haggs half way.

"Haggs will tear her to pieces!" Bubbles breathed in horror.

187

Gadget walked lightly forward to block Haggs' path. She didn't feel scared and she wasn't being brave. If pressed, she could not have told what motivated her to step into the path of Haggs' oncoming fury. It could have been instinct to protect her friends, or perhaps her time as a Ranger had conditioned her to believe that good would always win however uneven the battle.

As she advanced Gadget had heard the cries of fear from inmates on either side of the ward but did not take them in. They were background noise, something she had heard on countless rescues but which she had to ignore until she had made whatever was causing the screams to go away.

"It's HER! She's HERE!"

"She's come to get us!"

"Haggs will save us!"

Only the last cry penetrated Gadget's mind, but it did so like a knife. Her head reeled and suddenly she felt out of her depth.

HAGGS will save them? Haggs is the rescuer but I'M the monster? 

Gadget allowed her head to turn towards the patient who had spoken last. In doing so she looked away from the glowering white rat.

The hamster, who seemed ready to found a fan club for the meanest guard to walk a turn at Shrankshaw on the spot, shrank beneath the bed sheets under Gadget's gaze like a child confronted by the bogeyman. While Gadget stared Haggs took three long, quick strides and took Gadget by the throat.

Gadget gasped in shock at the sudden unexpected sensation of Haggs' calloused paw at her throat, the long steely fingers encircling her, the sharp claw points at the back of her neck. The sound was cut off midway when Haggs hoisted her off the ground and dangled her, effortlessly, at arm's length. She wrapped her hands around Haggs' wrist and tried to haul herself upwards, anything so her full weight wasn't pulling her vertebra apart.

Haggs allowed her victim to draw half a breath before choking her.

Gadget's eyes bulged. Haggs' fingers dug deep and didn't yield even when Gadget clawed at them. Worse yet, Gadget could feel there was yet more strength in them that Haggs had was holding in reserve.

Bubbles was running forward, shouting. Gadget couldn't make out the words for the sound of blood rushing in her ears. The already darkened infirmary ward was turning black. Then Bubbles hurled herself at Haggs and burring her elbow in the white rat's jaw with her full weight behind it.

If the blow had been aimed at someone Bubbles size, they would have been sent flying. All Haggs did was take a half step back and turn her head to glare at Bubbles instead of Gadget, so Bubbles began to pull and claw at Haggs' uniform instead.

"Get your paws off her!" She shouted. "Leave her alone! She's my friend!"

Haggs put her other huge paw over Bubbles' face to silence her then shoved in one smooth moment. Bubbles fell hard and slid two inches across the highly polished floor before she came to rest.

Gadget felt herself begin to pass out. She kicked at Haggs in the hope it would make the rat drop her but it was like kicking the trunk of a tree. Was Haggs really that strong or was her own strength giving out through lack of air, she wondered? Blue lights were flashing in front of her eyes and she was loosing strength in her arms. She couldn't think of any way out of this. Not with the situation so simple and so overwhelmingly stacked against her. Either Haggs would kill her here, now, or the others would distract Haggs long enough for the more able-bodied inmates in the ward to tear her to pieces.

Then she remembered – Bubbles still had the knife.

Still on the floor a little way from Gadget, Bubbles had also remembered the knife. In fact, she had almost impaled herself on it and her hand had reached for it at first not as a weapon but to see how back the damage was.

Now she turned it over in her hand looking at the smudge of blood on the point and thinking how that blood might mingle with Haggs'. She had plenty of reason to hate the guard without Red's life hanging in the balance but murder would be a new trick for her. Did they still microwave people for that? You couldn't hang someone properly when they were the size of a mouse; there wasn't enough weight in the body to break the bones, which was probably the only thing that had kept Red twitching this long.

Back at the end of Haggs arm Gadget was contemplating the same idea. As much as she shrank from the idea of anyone killing for her, it was beginning to sound better with every missed breath of precious air. Would she herself be an accomplice in the eyes of the law? Would it count as justified homicide because Bubbles was saving the life of a wrongly imprisoned Rescue Ranger? Gadget pictured her friend strapped into a chair made of microwave safe materials and wondered if she would fare any better in court a second time around, even now she had experience.

Bubbles stood up with tears in her eyes and the knife clenched in tightly in one hand.

"Let her go." Bubbles ordered.

"Who's going to make me?" Haggs asked, her eyes on Gadget's face watching for the moment they saw the great black chasm at the end of life and nothing more, but not seeing the knife in Bubbles' hand at all.

She saw a blur of moment in the corner of her eye, moving faster than she had thought possible for McGee. Then something struck her and she saw nothing at all.

188

Bubbles McGee watched Haggs' eyes roll up into her skull and her huge body fold like a deckchair. The big rat's grip had given out before her legs, dumping Red unceremoniously onto the floor. She made more noise hitting the ground than Haggs did and even found enough air from somewhere to squeak when she landed on a well padded but sensitive portion of her anatomy.

Standing on the opposite side of Haggs to Bubbles was Sheila, the white mouse who had tried to fight Red and Bubbles with the very same knife Bubbles was now holding, though that seemed about a hundred years ago now. Sheila clutched the lower half of a rat-sized crutch with both hands. The top half had broken off when she hit Haggs over the head with it and now Sheila surveyed the results of her handiwork with satisfaction.

From the floor, Red gasped for air.

Sheila took a deep breath. "I get to come with you, agreed?"

Bubbles nodded, mutely grateful for being saved from becoming a murderer as well as for her friend's life.

"Are you all right?" Bubbles asked Red without taking her eyes off Sheila.

Red answered with a low squeak.

"Did you land on your tail?" She asked, wincing at the thought.

"I wish I had, it might have broken my fall!" Red replied, hoarsely.

Sheila chuckled at that and Bubbles allowed herself a wry smile, too, before she helped Red to her feet. Red seemed shaky but that was hardly surprising given what she had been through. Perhaps, Bubbles thought dryly, this shock to the system was what Red needed to make her drop her weird Gadget Hackwrench fantasies…

Gadget was grateful for two things. The first was the shoulder of her friend, Bubbles, which she was leaning on as she struggled towards the door. Without that, she doubted she would be up to walking. The second was that the patients were all too terrified to so much as get out of bed, let alone cause any trouble. She was in no condition for another fight and wouldn't be until she got her breath back, which might take some moments.

"Crazy girl, crazy girl." Bubbles muttered as she helped her along. "What made you try to face off against Haggs like that?"

"Thought I could slow her down." Gadget rasped, still clutching her throat with one hand.

"Yeah, right. For the two seconds it would have taken her to tear you limb from limb." Bubbles looked at her sideways. "Isn't Gadget Hackwrench supposed to be smarter than that?"

Gadget gave a chuckle that sounded more like a cough. "I'm beginning to think intelligence is overrated, it always seems to get me into more trouble than it gets me out of."

Bubbles looked at her doubtfully. "Taking on Haggs one on one wasn't smart, Red."

"You said we had to be quiet. If there was going to be a fight, we couldn't have it near the stairwell, because the noise would carry to the whole prison, right?" Gadget explained.

"But the prisoners in the ward?"

"They were already awake, so more noise in the infirmary wouldn't make things worse. There was going to be a fight one way or another and since they've feared and hated Haggs a lot longer than me and she's their natural enemy, I knew it was a choice between fighting them or her. I'd rather fight one big someone than a whole crowd of regular sized people." It sounded logical to Gadget, anyway.

"I should have known it would take more than Haggs strangling you to stop you talking." Bubbles lamented.

"We won't have long." Sheila interrupted them. "Can you lock the door behind us?"

"Yes, but it won't hold Haggs for long. Not if she was able to bust out of one of the solitary cells." Bubbles handed Gadget over to the twins and turned to secure the doors. What she saw gave her pause.

Several of the other inmates had risen from their infirmary beds and were standing around the unconscious Haggs in a loose, widely spaced circle. What Red had said was true, Bubbles reflected. Haggs had been hated and feared by a great many people since long before Red showed up. Scores would be settled tonight. Silently, she closed the infirmary ward doors and locked them with Haggs' silver key.

"We're already close to the top of the prison." Bubbles told the others. "Let's try to make good time before Haggs wakes up. When she does, I think we can forget about keeping quiet because the whole prison is going to hear her."

On either side of Gadget, the twins were clucking in concern.

"That was very brave." The one on her left said.

"Very, very brave." The right one added.

"And stupid, of course."

"Yes, very stupid. But brave."

"Yes, brave."

"I think I'm starting to get the shakes." Gadget said as they helped her through the second set of doors on to the staircase.

One twin looked at the other. "Do you think? Just this once?"

"To make her feel better? Why not?"

"Yes, let's."

"What–" Gadget didn't have time to finish the question.

"Big hug!" the twins chorused.

"Eeep!" Gadget barely had time to squeak before she was engulfed from either side by an outpouring of mousy affection.

"We really don't have time for this." Sheila complained.

Gadget found she could only struggle free by ducking under their arms and then side stepping out from between them. In addition giving Gadget a closer look at the twins' anatomy than she was comfortable with, it left the pair hugging each other instead of Gadget. It was some moments before they realised. When they did they turned their large eyes on her and blinked soulfully in unison.

"I'm really feeling MUCH better!" Gadget squeaked awkwardly.

"Hey, keep it down will ya? We want to get as far as we can before they all start chasing us." Bubbles told them.

Gadget had almost stopped blushing by the time they reached the top of the staircase. Below them was a square shaft of dirty grey light that dropped away into the bowels of the prison. The staircase they had climbed spiralled around the walls up to the point where it met the perfect black square of the airshaft from the human prison above. A thick cord hung out of the dead centre of the airshaft, a number six fishing hook hanging on the end.

"That must be part of the block and tackle they use to lift stuff up and down the shaft." Bubbles pointed to it. "But how do they get up there from here?"

The problem was they had come to a flat platform about six inches square with no safety rails on the side towards the shaft and there was no visible way of getting any higher.

"Do you think they're using a simple winding mechanism at the top of the shaft or some kind of counterweight?" Gadget asked absentmindedly.

"Who cares? We have to find out how they get up there to lower stuff down and we have to figure it out fast because we are at the top of a long staircase with nothing below it but lots of guards."

Gadget looked at the lifting tackle for a moment. "Perhaps they don't."

"What."

"Perhaps they have one crew working here to receive whatever is being lowered and another crew up at the top of the shaft who get there another way. Through the human prison up top, for instance." Gadget explained.

"Are you saying we're trapped here?" Sheila demanded.

"Well, it is a prison…" Gadget pointed out.

"I slugged HAGGS and you guys don't have a way out of here?" Sheila's voice rose, as did her temper. From her expression, she didn't much care if the whole prison overheard her.

"There must be a ladder on the side of the airshaft, or a freight elevator. Something!" The note of desperation in Bubbles' quieter voice cut through Sheila's tantrum like a knife.

Everyone craned their necks to look for a way to climb higher. Gadget looked at the hook and lifting gear. Then she looked at a small electrical cable that ran down the side of the shaft to an electrical box behind the platform they were standing on.

"What about that box?" Gadget asked.

"We're looking for a way to get up that ventilation shaft, not somewhere to hide knickknacks, Red. Get with the program."

The box was made of metal, coated in a paint that Gadget knew from experience was non-conductive. There were no dials, buttons or switches visible because the front of the box was fitted with a heavy door and a strong lock.

"I think this is a control box for the lifting gear." Gadget said.

"Red, we're in trouble here. We need everyone to pull their weight, get it?" Bubbles scolded.

Gadget wondered if this was how Dale felt when he had something to tell everyone and no one was willing to listen. She resolved to give every one of Dale's hair-brained ideas a fair hearing from now on; after all, everyone listened to her when they thought she was Gadget!

Gadget nodded to herself, having both settled on a course of action and protected a long cherished illusion.

"If this box controls the lifting winch, I bet that could lift the weight of all of us." She said brightly.

Everyone turned back to look at her, their eyes appraising her. Gadget smiled back at them and waited for someone to say something. No one did. Slowly, she began to see there were just two possibilities: either she really was stupid and just couldn't see the flaw in what she had suggested, or she had finally said something smart enough to make her friends realise "Red" wasn't so crazy after all and therefore must in fact be Gadget Hackwrench, a person that a group of convicts, such as themselves, might well want to throw off a suitably high place, such as this platform they were all in fact all standing on right now.

Gadget found herself waiting, with great interest, for someone to break the silence.

One of Bubbles' paws clenched into fist. Her eyes were glassy.

Gadget held her breath.

"Good work, Red! That's brilliant!" Bubbles punched the air in triumph.

"It's locked and I don't think Haggs' key will open it. It's a box not a door." Gadget sounded almost defensive, as though protecting Red's sterling reputation as an idiot.

"So we pick the lock."

"Haggs still has my lock-pick."

Bubbles smiled and winked at her. "She doesn't have mine."

Gadget's jaw dropped.

"Yours? Wait, you have a lock-pick? No, wait, how can you have a lock-pick? I mean, in here? I mean, the search? Where could you hide…?" Gadget trailed off weakly.

Bubbles smiled at her.

Gadget felt her eyes grow wider and wider. She knew her expression was a perfect picture, the memory of which Bubbles would doubtless treasure for years to come. After enjoying herself a moment longer, Bubbles put her out of her misery.

"I'll give you a clue." She said kindly. "It doubles as a hairpin. For my **hair**."

189

The large number of nocturnal animals meant that there were more people about in the park after dark than in daylight when the diurnal animals were hiding from the humans. Lawhiney tried to look nonchalant as she searched for the Ranger's hidden garage, which, as Gadget, she was supposed to already know the location of. She found it more by squinting at the path worn into the grass between the tree trunk and the garage by the Ranger's feet.

She found the garage under a thick bush that had been carefully cultivated to hide anything of interest from human eyes while still looking as wild and natural as possible. The garage door was fitted with a Gadget original lock. A human made digital watch with a built in calculator was glued to the door. Two wires ran from it to a carefully drilled hole in the door. Lawhiney didn't need her old technical expert, Laurie the mole, to tell her that it was a combination lock. She surveyed the device for a moment and then reflected that if there was one thing that living in Gadget's shoes had taught her, it was how people got by when they had to live in close proximity to a caffeine-fuelled, mechanically crazed mouse and her inventions.

As she suspected the glue and the watch lifted without the slightest problem; someone had used a piece of sticky-tape as a hinge. Underneath someone had pinned a note that said "Kick Here" and drawn an arrow that pointed straight down.

Lawhiney balled the toes of her foot and kicked like someone who knew how to fight dirty. The garage door swung open so fast she had to jump back. Sitting inside, crouched in the darkness like a big, friendly spider in primary colour makeup, was the Ranger-mobile, Lawhiney's ride to freedom.

A few moments later a few of the nocturnal denizens of the park witnessed what they thought was Gadget Hackwrench driving the Ranger-mobile out of the park on what they assumed was a private mission of mercy. They knew it couldn't be a rescue since she was plainly, to their dark adjusted eyes, riding solo and it was far later than that nice Hackwrench girl was normally seen out and about, which was a shame, they would say later for anyone who asked.

Lawhiney found the dirt track, away from the human paths, that the Rangers usually used to exit the park with a little searching. As soon as she was clear of the Ranger's tree and their neighbours, she turned on the lights and opened up the throttle. She soon discovered that Gadget, for all her faults as an inventor, was an excellent mechanic and that the Ranger-mobile had an impressive turn of speed.

In the cool night air, with the wind in her hair and the darkness covering her, Lawhiney felt free. Free of the law. Free of the Rangers. Free of Geegaw. She felt the wind against her face for the first time in weeks and with it she knew that she was leaving everything that had happened in that time further and further behind her.

She had been driving for ten minutes at a little over twenty miles an hour, which seemed a lot faster to a mouse girl with only an inch and a half of plastic and air between her rump and the tarmac than it might to a human being surrounded by metal and generous upholstery, when she saw the cryptic but well understood markings that marked a false storm drain cover that was actually the entrance to the nearest small animal expressway. Lawhiney took the turning, quietly trying not to think about the street-gangs and blackmailers who occasionally put the same marks up over real storm drains, like everyone else of her size who found themselves driving somewhere they weren't use to.

The storm drain led to a normal rodent speedway that had been built along the roof of the human storm sewer, wide enough for two lanes of traffic each side, a regular interstate freeway by small animal standards. She followed the speedway to the edge of the city, heading towards the docks. The speedway would only take her so far then the rest of the way would be on the surface, along dirt tracks and the sides of human roads, but that was the way she liked it because she had some thinking to do.

An hour later, at one in the morning, Lawhiney turned off the speedway and drove out into the night. The air was colder now and there was a light mist that made Lawhiney wish for a pair of Gadget's goggles. She was alone on a dirt track road that ran through the darkened autumn woods on the edge of the city and finally had room to think.

Away from the Ranger HQ the events of the last two months seemed like a long nightmare, a fever dream brought on by too much fast living. She remembered the moment in the hospital when Ratigan had been late for his appointment with her. For a moment she had believed, truly believed, that there was no Ratigan, no Geegaw, no pearly gates or fiery pit awaiting her and that she had simply awoken from a bad accident with a few screws loose and a bad conscience that liked to play dress up with her imagination.

It sounded convincing now. She tried the idea on for size and it seemed to fit well. Lawhiney knew in her heart that if she spent too long thinking about it she wouldn't just be entertaining the idea as wishful thinking, it would be a permanent resident. She could see herself papering over the memory of the last two months with a pat, convenient explanation that would leave her free to continue lying, cheating and deceiving her way through life until her last day came.

Still, she questioned herself, what about her leg? Geegaw had healed it hadn't he? She could walk right now because of him and that wasn't something a hallucination could do. Doctor Bell had thought his initial diagnosis was wrong when he had seen the ultrasound results, perhaps it was. Then again, he'd also said she was a fast healer. Maybe that was it. Maybe she was just the type who bounced back fast. Yeah, that was the ticket. It sure sounded like her.

But why would hallucinations try to reform her? Why hallucinate Gadget's father?

Clearly pretending to be someone else for long periods of time was bad for you, Lawhiney decided. She had spent too long crawling around in Gadget Hackwrench's skull and it had finally got to her. Obviously she had seen Geegaw's picture on Gadget's bedside table and forgotten about it, long before the hooded figure of the guide revealed his face to her. Perhaps she'd even been… jealous. Gadget was such a goodie-two-shoes that surely she must have had a remarkable, perfect upbringing. Lawhiney thought of Geegaw a little regretfully. She would have liked him to be real but hadn't he, in fact, been too good to be true?

Lawhiney set her mouth as she came to a decision. "Well, that settles one thing. I'm never going to pretend to be Gadget Hackwrench again."

With that sacrifice that was not truly a sacrifice Lawhiney laid to rest her memories of Geegaw Hackwrench – hallucination, ghost or whatever he was – and turned her mind to deciding what exotic places she would visit so she could start anew.

"I can't go back to Hawaii. I liked island life though. Somewhere sunny with beaches and lots of gullible tourists, I think. Maybe the Caribbean." Lawhiney mused. "Then again, Pierre made Paris sound so nice when he was pretending he had actually been there."

Before she could make up her mind the headlights lit up a single, ghastly impossible figure directly in the path of the Ranger-mobile. A tall, broad-shouldered rat wearing a top hat and a cape stood in the middle of the road, his arms spread wide as though to bar Lawhiney progress.

Lawhiney swerved, yanking the steering wheel by reflex. The edge of the road kicked at the wheels, threatening to send the car spinning out of control.

Hallucination. Just a hallucination, Lawhiney thought desperately and forced the car back to the centre of the road and onto a collision course with the spectre.

At the last moment it occurred to her that she might be seeing Ratigan where someone else, an innocent stranger, stood waiting to be run down. It was too late to turn, too late to break.

Lawhiney screamed as the Ranger-mobile hit.

Ratigan's legs dissolved like mist under the fender of the Ranger-mobile. His lower body blew away like smoke as the front of the car ran through him, allowing his head and shoulders to pass through the windshield without touching it.

Ratigan's face was a delighted, joyful, mocking laugh as his face rushed towards Lawhiney's face like a custard pie. His mouth was as wide and dark as a subway tunnel as Lawhiney rushed helplessly towards it as though she were going to be swallowed up. For an instant her eyes were inside his mouth and she could stand no more.

Lawhiney covered her eyes with her paws and tried to curl into a ball. She had forgotten that she was supposed to be driving a car, a fast car, down a treacherous woodland back road.

This time the rough ground at the edge of the road didn't kick the wheels back into the middle of the road where they belonged, it sank its teeth into them like a predator and savaged them. The Ranger mobile spun twice then flipped. The car continued to slide along on its side for nearly three feet before slamming into a large rock and stopping dead.

For a moment there was silence. Then sparks flew from the underside of the wrecked vehicle and the headlights died, leaving the scene in darkness.

190

Chip's heart felt like a cracked ingot of lead that rocked with every step he took. He hadn't known he could feel this bad, and his life had contained a fair share of the world's grief. The scary part was that it didn't feel worse because he felt numb. He had taken enough bruises to know that meant the real pain was to come.

He had taken off his old leather jacket and hung it neatly in the closet he shared with Dale. As an afterthought he had covered it with a plastic bag like it had just come back from the dry cleaners, so that it would stay clean until he returned.

It wasn't until then that Chip realised he was leaving. Once he knew what he was doing it made perfect sense. Tonight's events were going to mark him for a long time and he didn't want his friends to see him until he had worked through enough of the pain and confusion to at least hold himself together on the outside. He was leaving the bomber jacket behind along with his trademark hat because he didn't want to be identified, didn't want to be recognised as someone who was a symbol for something good and worthwhile. Not until the world seemed like a good and worthwhile place again.

He put on the still battered and travel stained trench coat he had worn when he had gone chasing across the country in search of the girl who was now locked up in Shrankshaw Prison. It had been a fool's errand and since he had stood on a railway track to deliver a eulogy for Gadget Hackwrench and forgotten that a train was due, the coat was had become something that he would forever associate with his own monumental foolishness. It seemed to fit better now.

It took a moment to pack a small travel bag with some essentials and he couldn't bring himself to leave his hat behind. Then he was on his way out the door with a last look at the room Dale and he shared. He stared at his neatly turned down bunk and Dale's tangled bed sheets that resembled a gorilla's nest, at the small collection of neatly bound books he kept for bedside reading and at the tattered, read-to-bits scattering of comic books Dale left on the floor. With a sigh he turned out the light and closed the door.

Chip was halfway to the front door when he met Monty coming the other way. The big Aussie mouse took in his travelling clothes and expression at a glance and immediately decided not to ask.

"All right, Chipper?" Monty's tone was deliberately light.

"Feeling a little tired, I guess." Chip replied after moment's pause.

Monty scratched his head and plainly didn't believe him. "Gadget told me she was going to visit her friend, Jenny. Says she knows it's late but Jen works shifts and wouldn't have been home earlier."

"Did you offer to see her there safely?" Chip asked mechanically.

"It's safer at night. You know that, Chipper. The humans are all tucked up safely in bed and the ones that don't know any better can't see a darn thing."

"It isn't humans that concern me."

"Gadget can handle herself. Besides, I think she wanted to get away from us for a while. She said she'd been going stir-crazy, cooped up with that gammy leg of hers."

"I know how she feels." Chip said distractedly. Somewhere inside of him, hope was twitching like a dying animal. "Did you say stir-crazy? That might explain… a few things. Monty, would you say Gadget has been acting oddly, recently?"

"Odd?"

"You know, different, out of character. More absentminded than usual, less talkative – much less talkative, actually – eating differently, locking herself away in her room and her workshop away from the rest of us?"

"I wouldn't say that last one was out of character for Gadget." smiled Monty. "Gadgie has always been a little reclusive. I wouldn't get tied up in knots over it, Chip. I'm sure she just wants to enjoy herself, now she's got her 'ealth back."

Chip turned away, as though in deep thought. In fact, he just didn't want Monty to know how much pain his words had innocently caused him. "I guess that explains a lot."

Monty seemed to sense a change of subject was in order. "Ah, have you seen Dale? I was supposed to tell him when the film that just ended started, only I can't seem to find him anywhere."

"I imagine he's either sleeping with Gadget."

Monty blinked. "Uh, you mean sleeping, or with Gadget, right?"

"That's what I said, isn't it?" Chip said, riled.

Monty struggled for words. "Perhaps he's seeing Gadget to Jen's, like you said, but she said she didn't know where he was either."

Chip shook his head. The detective in him, that part of himself he pictured as Sureluck Jones, was trying to get his attention but he didn't want to know. "That doesn't make sense. Why wouldn't she know where Dale is?"

"Do you know where Dale is?"

"I – no, Monty. I only know where he's been."

There was a twist in Chip's voice that raised the fur on the back of Monty's neck. Something was wrong here, badly wrong, and no matter what Monty said he seemed to be making things worse without getting any wiser about the nature of the problem.

"I, uh, look Chipper, I'm feeling pretty tired. Perhaps a good night's rest and things will seem clearer. Could you do me a favour?"

Chip almost gave a quiet, hollow laugh. "No problem, Monty."

"I promised Gadget I'd take out her trash."

This time Chip gave into the laugh and it sounded as hollow and empty as he had feared. "Are you going to see me to the door?"

"To take out the trash? That don't make any sense, Chipper, I might as well take it out myself if I did that."

"You want me to do it? You want me to take out the trash… from her workshop?" The pause made those last three words sound as ominous as a line from a horror movie.

Monty began to suspect that Chip was playing some bizarre joke on him. "Uh, yeah Chipper. Unless'n that's asking too much o' yer."

Chip felt ready to cry. "No. It's not asking too much. I'll do it on my way out."

"Uh, you going somewhere then?" Monty looked again at Chip's trench coat and overnight bag and this time made sure Chip saw him doing it.

Chip also looked himself up and down, as though seeing the clothes and baggage for the first time. "I – well, yeah, I'm going somewhere, Monty."

"Any where in particular?" Monty daintily tested the waters at this end of the conversation.

"I, uh, I haven't puzzled it out yet."

Monty's eyes flicked to Chip's hat. "You've got your hat on. Is it a case, Chipper?" He smiled in understanding.

"Uh, sure Monty. I have to go out and track down a few leads. It could take a while. You know how it is."

"Isn't that the coat you wore when you were out incognito, trying to track down that impostor?" Monty took the logic a step further.

Chip shrugged helplessly. "Sure, Monty. I left a few leads hanging when I rushed back to make sure Gadget was okay."

"But that girl's behind bars now!"

"But not her accomplices, we haven't even confirmed that lunatic who tried to strangle Gadget is one of them and the other two are still on the loose." Perhaps he would try and track them down, Chip thought, in between times feeling sorry for himself.

"You're leaving tonight?" Monty scratched his head again certain he was still missing something.

"Yeah. I decided this evening."

"Well, it's a bloomin' strange time to start a journey but if your mind's made up…" The big mouse shrugged, surrendering.

"It is. I'll get the trash on my way out. I guess if you're not seeing me to the door, I'll say goodbye."

"You, ah, want me to pass that onto the others?"

"Sure, Monty. You give them my best for me." Chip hung his head and passed his friend, perhaps the only true friend he still had now, without looking him in the eye.

Monty watched the chipmunk's retreating back as Chip continued down the corridor towards Gadget's workshop before shaking his head and turning towards his own bed. He was halfway there before he remembered that he had forgotten to tell Chip to empty Gadget's wastepaper basket before taking the trash out.

191

Chip paused outside the door to Gadget's workshop. He couldn't think of another door he wanted to open less. Twice he raised his paw to the handle and pulled it away again as though the door was hot. Finally he hated himself for drawing the experience out and forced himself to get it over with.

But first he knocked.

He couldn't stand any more shocks tonight.

A stiff breeze blew through the workshop, hitting him in the face and pushing past him as though it was in an even bigger hurry to get out the door than he was. The crumpled balls of paper that littered the floor rolled like tumbleweeds and Chip was briefly thankful that Monty hadn't said anything about sweeping up.

Again, Chip's imaginary detective plucked at his sleeve, trying to get his attention. Although Gadget's workshop was pretty much as it had been the last time Chip had seen it, it held fewer distractions to stop him noticing the little details that surrounded him.

The place was messy, though Gadget seemed to have left all of her inventions untouched and her tools were all in their intended places. Chip noted a thin film of dust on the closer tools and deduced that they had been unused by Gadget since her return from hospital. There was an unopened, un-addressed envelope on her workbench, with no dust. The swirl of paper debris on the floor suggested that she had been writing, drafting something many times, and had discarded many early attempts before achieving a result she was happy with, which he presumed lay in the envelope on the workbench. Chip knew Gadget was, although disorganised and absent minded, generally a tidy mouse and an excellent aim. The waste bin was close to where she had clearly been sitting – too close for her to miss every single time – and was now empty on its side. It followed, logically, that the paper had been in the bin until it was knocked over, say by some wildly flailing limb belonging to a person who was in the midst of some all consuming physical activity.

Chip felt his eyes fill with tears.

What was he thinking, for crying out loud? He should know better than to go playing detective in his own home, just because his two best friends had… betrayed him?

Chip felt something inside of him let go and he felt both better and worse for it without knowing why.

They hadn't betrayed him. He recognised and accepted the knowledge like a soothing balm for his troubled heart. Gadget had never promised him anything. Dale had been both open and vocal in his intentions towards Gadget. Chip hadn't been betrayed, yet here he was acting like his two best friends were a couple of crooks on the run.

Chip stiffened as a new and terrifying thought came to him.

Perhaps the reason neither Dale or Gadget were in the tree house right now was that they were indeed on the run – from him! At the very least they could be laying low at some safe distance until his ire blew over. Was that the kind of person Chip Maplewood really wanted to be? Was that who the others saw him as?

Feeling humbler than he had ever felt in his whole life, Chip bent to pick up the sack and paused. On the floor next to the garbage sack was an un-crumpled piece of paper that clearly had writing on the face down side. Presumably it was an abandoned draft at whatever was in the envelope on her workbench. All he had to do was flip it over and he would know what she had thought so important that it took so many attempts to say. If it came down to it, Monty was probably in bed by now and there was no one to stop him or ever know if he ripped open the envelope and read the full, finished version of whatever Gadget had been writing.

Chip straightened up until the envelope was at eye level. There was no address on the envelope. If questioned he could claim that it was intended for him. No one would know he was snooping and if they did, he could justify himself.

He reached out for it.

His better self would know. The part of him that was the person that he should be would always know that he had, in some small petty way, violated Gadget's trust and if he opened it and found it was just a list of things she wanted to pick up at the city dump tomorrow that would be no excuse in the eyes of his conscience.

Slowly, Chip withdrew his hand and tried not to see that it was shaking. He would be gone soon and Dale and Gadget would be free to come back. He was confused, not thinking straight, and it was for the best if he went somewhere far, far away from here until everything was clear again. Perhaps it was for the best that Gadget and Dale weren't here. After all, how many police reports began with an experience like the one he had this evening?

Chip grabbed at the sack with his eyes still on the envelope and only looked down when he realised that it wasn't tied shut. With an angry jerk, he hauled on the strings at the top of the bag like he was strangling someone and dragged the sack out of the door.

It took two attempts to close the door. The first time the corner of the bag got caught in it and he slammed the door angrily without noticing. Chip hauled the bag along the ground by one hand, his overnight bag in the other, grumbling all the way.

The bag thumped against every step down the stairs on the way to the front door like there was a dead body in the rubbish sack and Chip found something satisfying in the sound. Some idiot, probably Dale he thought with particular viciousness, had left the front door partly open, which explained the strong draught from the window when he had opened the door to Gadget's workshop.

Chip swapped hands because the arm that had been dragging the rubbish sack was getting tired now. He dragged the sack out the door into the cold night air and hoped that no owls had been watching the crack of shaft of light from the living room as he pulled the sack out onto the porch with him.

Once outside, Chip looked over the edge of the porch into the darkness below. There were a lot of steps to the ground and if he lost his grip on the sack it was heavy enough to drag him off the stairs and send him plummeting into the dark with it. People had died that way. Admittedly, the small mass to size ratio meant that a small animal's terminal velocity was slow and not usually fatal unless you landed badly but it still wasn't something Chip wanted to explain in an emergency room.

The sensible thing to do, from perspective of someone up in a tree with something heavy they didn't want to carry down to the ground or drag and risk falling, was to throw or drop it. Monty would have walked out as far as he dared on the thick branch towards the waste bin on the other side of the tree, hoisted the sack over his head and thrown it a fair distance into the trash. That was probably why Gadget had asked him to do this. The trouble was, people got killed by trash bags landing on their heads too. Particularly when there was something heavy in them.

So Chip looked into the dark abyss at the side of the tree, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the light, hoping an owl didn't come along, and never dreaming that the abyss was literally looking right back up at him.

Chip's eyes had just got used to the night when he heard a noise on the steps next to him. He turned his head to see what was there and some fool shone the brightest light in his eyes since Gadget tested her 50,000W halogen camera flash at his birthday party. Chip cursed and hoped it wouldn't take two days for his vision to come back this time. Not being able to find your own way to the bathroom was embarrassing.

"Mister Maplewood? Is that you?" A young voice asked with grown-up concern.

"Get that light out of my eyes! Haven't you heard of owls?" He snarled. The voice complied and he returned the favour with his name. "Yeah, I'm Chip Maplewood of the Rescue Rangers, who are you?"

The torch vanished.

"Watcher Diane Hazelleaf of the Street Watch, Sir." There was everything but a salute on the end. For all Chip's eyes could see, there might have been that too.

Chip scowled. He wasn't in the mood for this. "Is that Hazel Leaf with one or two L's?" he was asking for future reference. He was feeling just mean enough to report her to someone if she put a foot wrong.

"Local neighbourhood watch reported something to us, sir, and we had to investigate."

The voice was young. Sounded about Tammy's age. If she was alone she probably didn't know better. Well, she would find out the hard way, Chip vowed.

"Neighbourhood watch is basically neighbours who have been broken into themselves trying to shut the stable door after the horse has bolted, or people who need a social ladder to climb before they feel part of the community. They report to us in the park, Patroller, and that makes this my jurisdiction. If there was a problem they should've told _us_, in which case _you_ tell _me_."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but the Rangers have been down for a while, what with you being out of town and Miss Hackwrench's accident, so the Neighbourhood Watch has been reporting to us instead for some time now." She sounded like she was reporting to a parade sergeant.

Chip wished he could see her face. So there was a problem in the park, was there? And the local community – he knew the fat old mole no one liked who had elected himself president of the local Neighbourhood Watch because no one else wanted the job – had gone to the Street Watch instead of the Rangers? Odds were the mole was still thinking of the bad press coverage Gadget had got a couple of months ago. He had hoped the coverage of the impostor's trial had put an end to it but there were those who would make an advantage out of anything. Well, he'd have a talk with the mole tomorrow morning and the whole thing would be straightened out, or there would be a new president of the Neighbourhood Watch, one with his recommendation.

"It seems your garage has been left open." The voice said.

The Patroller was a squirrel, Chip was sure of it. He took a deep breath. That darn lock of Gadget's. They were supposed to type in Pi to some impossible number of decimal places and hit enter but no one could remember the right numbers and the battery kept quitting and locking them out. One dark night, he, Monty, Dale and Zipper had crept out with a pry-bar and prised the face of the calculator wristwatch up until they could get at the hole underneath it to short out the lock. When that hadn't worked, Dale had kicked the door and it had magically opened. Chip had pinned a note there to make sure they knew where to kick ever since and one of them had made sure to distract Gadget whenever the door was opened to avoid her noticing that one of her proudest inventions didn't work. Asides from hurt feelings that might involve, she might fix the darn thing.

"Sir? Did you know the garage door was open?" The squirrel was being persistent.

"No. I didn't. The lock plays up sometimes. It was one of Gadget's creations." A member of the neighbourhood watch would have known what that meant. He meant to make a point of it when he talked to her boss if she didn't.

"Let me through, Hazelleaf. I'll deal with this." A deeper, older voice sounded from behind her.

A mentor, trying to rescue the youngster from the deep water she had gotten herself into without realising. Almost in desperation the young Patroller spoke up a last time. "Sir, can I ask what you were doing just now, before I shone the torch in your eyes?"

"I was considering whether it would be safer to drop this rubbish sack off our porch or drag it down all these steps one handed." Chip replied.

"Oh, well I'm glad you didn't decide to drop it off your porch, sir, because Patroller Ramon is down there and it might well have caused serious injury if you had anything particularly heavy in that sack."

"I said: I'll deal with this, Hazelleaf." The older voice boomed from behind her.

Chip, who prided himself on being able to tell species from voice alone, frowned. It had to be someone small enough to climb the steps but with a chest big enough to produce such a voice. It turned out to be a fellow chipmunk as fate would have it. Chip frowned at him and waited to see how he would deal with things.

"Evening, Mister Maplewood. Sorry to have troubled you like this. Mind if I ask what you have in the sack there?" The chipmunk spoke in a balanced but authoritative tone that could have been an imitation of Chip himself.

Chip rolled his eyes. "I don't rightly know. Trash, you know, garbage. Nothing important. I was about to throw it out."

"You don't want to be dropping it off a porch from this height, if you don't mind me saying so. Could kill someone."

"Yeah, I know. I was just trying to see if it was clear below when you happened upon me."

"Eh, is that an overnight bag, you've got there?" The chipmunk queried. There was a click and suddenly a torch beam was spotlighting Chip's little black bag.

Chip froze. Okay, he was definitely taking this to whoever ran the local Street Watch Patrol House.

"Yeah. It's my overnight bag. I was going out." He said in a tone he knew would get hurt looks from his nearest and dearest.

"At this time of night?"

"It's safer to travel by night. Hadn't you heard of–"

"Of humans, yes, of course sir. Uh…" The chipmunk seemed embarrassed to continue.

Chip growled. "Are you seriously going to ask me to open my overnight bag so you can look at my tooth file and spare nightshirt because someone saw our defective garage door open and told you we might have been broken into?"

"No, it's just… that isn't your normal jacket, is it, sir?"

Chip could have sworn. He could quite see how otherwise perfectly law-abiding people got hauled in front of a judge now. Luckily he had enough sense to refrain from cursing them out or throwing punches but he would certainly be talking in person to whoever ran their headquarters and he would make sure these two numbskulls heard about it at length.

"No, of course this isn't my normal, old, bomber jacket, which I have by the way been wearing since the mid-eighties. It's warm and hard wearing when I'm working but I'm sure you don't expect me to wear it all the time, however often I agree to wear it for photographers, and I can't help it if those ungrateful half-wits in the press keep recycling those old pictures of me." He yelled. "Now, have you got any more stupid questions or would you care to make yourself useful and help me carry this darn thing down to the human waste bin?"

The chipmunk seemed taken aback.

"Uh." He said. After an uncertain pause, he reached for the nearest hold he could get on the paper sack.

Chip could tell at once the chipmunk Patroller either didn't live in a tree or didn't use paper sacks at home, because he grasped it by a crease instead of a corner and pulled at it like it was half the weight Chip had indicated it was. Couldn't the fool see he wouldn't be complaining if it were something he could carry by himself?

The sack tore like tissue paper under the Patrolman's clumsy handling and as it half lifted Dale's limp, corpse-like body rolled out onto the balcony like the end of a garish, well prepared and particularly baffling conjuring trick.

Three torch spotlights clicked on and locked onto Dale's slack-jawed face and bloodied hair. Two of them moved up instantly, into Chip's eyes again, but not before he had seen for himself the reappearance of the disappeared chipmunk.

Chip blinked at what he could see of the body and then back into the blinding, third-encounter light beams the Patrollers were shining at him.

"I – " he said. "I can explain."

"Mister Maplewood, sir? Can you?" The chipmunk sounded like a drill sergeant now.

Chip looked down at the helpless form at his feet. He looked back up helplessly and said: "No."

192

Bubbles cracked the lock like an expert, which she undoubtedly was, although it made Gadget uncomfortable to admit it. The door popped open and inside was a simple control panel with only three controls: An on-off switch, a pair of buttons to raise and lower the hook and another pair of buttons marked "forward" and "back". Bubbles peered at it.

"Looks simple enough. You don't have to be Gadget Hackwrench to work this out." Bubbles teased.

"Won't one of us have to stay down here to operate this thing?" One of the twins asked.

"Oh, great! So do we draw lots or something to see who Haggs gets to break in two?" Sheila complained.

Everyone looked at the little box on the wall that held the key to freedom. Gadget was one deep breath away from suggesting how she could rewire the box to lift them automatically when Bubbles spoke up.

"We could just lower enough cable for someone to drag the hook over to the controls. That way someone could hit the on button from there." Bubbles suggested with elegant simplicity.

Gadget did a double take. Never had her inventor's itch been so effectively stepped on.

"Okay." Bubbles said. "Who wants to see if this thing works?"

Bubbles reached out and flipped the switch.

A shrill, piercing wail assailed their ears and seemed to echo around the staircase, reverberating deeper and deeper into the bowels of the prison. It sounded like a truck was reversing down the airshaft and was about to squash them all but all they could see above them was a string of cherry-red fairy lights that were wired to the side of the shaft.

"Switch it off! Switch it off!" Sheila and the twins chorused.

Gadget and Bubbles both dived for the switch. They siren was cut off in mid-wail. The fairy lights went out. In the sudden quiet everyone was as still as statues, all frozen, except for the eyes flicking back and forth at each other as they waited for the inevitable hue and cry. It soon came, as painful to their ears as cat claws on a blackboard.

Prisoners beat the bars of their cells with whatever came to hand. Guards shouted as they ran.

"Well," Gadget began, "at least there's one mercy – "

The double doors to the infirmary exploded outwards with such force that one of them tore off its hinges entirely, crashed over the staircase railings and tumbled down to hit the floor at the bottom of the stairwell with a thunder-like clap, after having seemed to hit every single flight of stairs on the way down.

"AHHRGH!" Roared a partially shaved Haggs. "Where are they?"

The escapees all looked over the edge of the platform at the seething rat and the shattered door that lay in the middle of the floor far below them, surrounded by a small circle of guards.

"Well," said Bubbles, "on the upside, at least we don't have to worry about keeping quiet any longer."

The guards were at the bottom of the staircase, a long way down. It had taken the escapees several minutes to get to the top of the staircase where they were now. Haggs was already halfway up and would easily reach them first but they would still have a good two minutes to say their prayers or take a flying leap if that seemed the better option.

"We're going to die." Sheila said carefully.

"Flip the switch again! It's our only chance!" Gadget was seized with a sudden burst of terror as strong as any she had known since coming to Shrankshaw.

If they were caught, then there would be no release. They would be tried for escaping lawful custody and this time, when the truth was learned and they realised that she was indeed Gadget Hackwrench, she would be disgraced and sentenced under her own name. The moment when she had seen Ms. Cedar outside the infirmary came back to her. Why, oh why, had she suppressed her impulse to raise the alarm and take one last shot at explaining things to someone in authority?

Guilt poured onto her fear like petrol onto a fire. She had never felt like this. She threw herself at the control box and hit the switch. The siren blared again forcing the others to put their paws to their ears.

"Well, there goes any doubt about where we are, if they had any." Sheila scowled.

"Haggs is on her way up." One twin said.

"So are the guards." The other added.

"Uh, how many guards?" Bubbles asked over her shoulder as she tried to pull Gadget away from the control box.

"Looks like, uh, all of them."

"All of them?" Bubbles growled, knowing that was impossible.

"Well, all the nightshift anyway." The twin allowed.

"Red, I don't think that hook is going to save us." Bubbles said.

"I won't be caught!" Gadget insisted. "Don't you see, Bubbles? If I'm caught, this whole thing will start over again for me, only this time double because everyone will know who I am and what I've done!"

Bubbles looked sideways at her as if seeing something unfamiliar in her friend's place. Uncertainly she said, "I don't think that hook can get to us before Haggs, Red."

Gadget looked at the hook. It was hanging halfway to the other side of the stairwell, more or less over the place where the infirmary door had finally come to rest. The cable was already lowered, thank God, but the mechanism that moved it from one side of the shaft to the other was moving unbelievably slowly.

No doubt this was intentional.

If Gadget knew anything about lifting equipment it was that what looked perfectly solid on paper came apart like cheese-straws when a payload started swinging about, putting strain on the equipment in unfamiliar ways. She looked at her friends and made a quick mental estimate as to each girl's weight that they probably would have found unflattering and totalled the numbers. Belatedly she remembered to add her own weight, allowing an extra ten percent for the slimming effect of her own vanity. The number she came up with was far enough under what she gauged the lifting gear to have been designed for that all five of them could have performed the Fat-Cat Stomp on a hardwood stage while wearing leaden boots without risking a catastrophic mechanical failure.

Gadget began to tear at the control panel with her fingers. Bubbles tried to stop her but Gadget shook her off and ignored the sparks as the panel pulled away from the housing, revealing a tangle of wires and cables and mysterious electronic boxes and dials. Gadget knew what each and every one of them did. It was like seeing old friends again. Her nimble fingers ignored the sparking wires and tugged at a variable resister, using claws where she would have normally used a screwdriver.

The speed of the hook's slow crawl towards them doubled and redoubled until it was racing towards them like an out of control vehicle and the escapees began to back down the stairs to safety. Gadget stayed at the controls, her back to the deadly point rushing towards her.

"RED!"

Bubbles' voice stirred Gadget enough to look over her shoulder and see the danger. She flipped the switch at the last second only to see the deadly sharp point of the fishing hook swinging violently towards her back. The tattered live wires continued to crackle and spark a hand's span from her chest.

Bubbles screamed from the staircase below.

Gadget threw herself to the floor.

The hook swung over her head, missing by millimetres and continued towards the control box. The steel point hung there for a moment, as though savouring the moment when it would stab the delicate electronics like a scorpion stinging itself to death.

Bubbles and the other mice gasped from the steps below, too far away to do anything and so close the disaster seemed to taunt them. Then Gadget's hand closed around the metal hook, stopping it just kissing distance from the same controls that had set it in motion.

"I got it!" She shouted.

"Here comes Haggs!" a twin shouted.

"All aboard the Shrankshaw express!" Bubbles shouted.

"How are we all going to fit on this thing?" Sheila asked.

"I'll play the cable out more and we can each hang on to our own stretch of it like a string of pearls." Gadget said. "The hook is big enough for one person to ride up on it like it was a swing."

"Are you crazy?" Bubbles yelled at her.

"It's that or form a daisy chain with one person hanging onto the hook and everyone else hanging onto someone else's legs." Gadget pointed out. "Wait, These overalls are pretty hard wearing. If we put the hook through the belts I bet we could get two or three people on the hook itself."

"Could you pick an idea and stick with it?" Sheila yelled. "Haggs is almost here!"

Gadget flipped a switch and the cable played out another six inches of cable. "There's a small disk on top of the hook, probably meant to let the hook turn without twisting the cables. If two people hug with the cable between them they can use that as a foothold."

"Sounds like a job for us." One of the twins grinned.

"We'll need to hold the hook steady." Bubbles pointed out.

"I got that covered." Sheila told her.

The hook was now resting on the platform. Sheila flipped it up right and carefully took hold of both the barb in one paw and the shaft in the other before sitting down on the curve of the hook as though it were a swing. The shaft of the hook was about waist high to Gadget, which meant it was low enough for the twins to take hold of the cable and climb up on without too much trouble. Gadget and Bubbles held the hook.

Gadget looked at Bubbles with a worried expression. "If you're going to fasten yourself to the hook, you'd better do it now, while I set the controls."

"You don't have any crazy notions about trying to take Haggs one on one again, do you?" Bubbles returned her look with equal concern.

"Lesson learned. I promise." Gadget told her.

Bubbles removed her belt and made a loop that she slipped over the end of the hook. Gadget turned back to the controls.

"Okay, now that I've worked on this thing it's going to move a lot quicker than it did before, so everyone hang tight."

"Got it."

"You bet!"

Bubbles wrapped the free end of her belt around her wrist as tight as she could and gripped it with both hands.

"I'm ready." She called over her shoulder.

"Sounds like fun!" A twin said. The other twin squeaked as the one who had spoken hugged her tight.

"McGee! Hackwrench! I'm going to kill both of you!" Haggs roared from just one flight of steps below them. "There's nowhere to go! I've got you now!"

Gadget's heart leapt. Haggs had just said her real name out loud! The other guards must surely have heard her at that volume! Indecision froze Gadget. That one angry, thoughtless yell must surely free her. It proved who she was. It proved Haggs had known who she was and that she meant to kill her! In a breath Haggs had removed any need for Gadget to break the law and escape.

Gadget turned to stare at her tormentor in triumph – and realised that freedom would only come if she lived through the next ten seconds!

Haggs was racing up the staircase. The long climb had scarcely winded her. Her face was a nightmare patchwork of fur, shaving foam and bald skin, all twisted with rage. The twitching muscles and creasing skin where Haggs' bare skin was exposed gave her a half-human appearance that seemed to amplify her expression in a way that would haunt Gadget's nightmares for years to come.

Gadget threw the switch without another thought and with a whirr of machinery the hook began to move. The slack cable was taken up quickly, almost yanking the twins from their footholds before they could change their grip. Sheila yelped in surprise as hook moved under her.

Gadget rushed to take her place only to find there was no room at the inn. Her eyes met Bubbles'.

"Grab hold!" Bubbles said. "I can hold both of us for a little while."

"Wait! The control panel! Haggs can just turn it off and strand us!" Gadget turned back from freedom just as the hook lifted Bubbles off the ground.

"RED!" Bubbles yelled. The hook and it's crowd of passengers was already swinging away from the platform, carrying them all out over the dizzying drop to the stairwell floor below.

Gadget had turned back and was reaching for the control panel when Haggs reached the last step.

"Got you!" Haggs laughed.

Gadget looked up in dismay as the white rat reached for her. Turning her face away, she tore at a loose wire from the control box and jammed it into Haggs' outstretched paw.

Electricity was an old acquaintance of Gadget's and she used it now as a weapon. Haggs recoiled from the shock, missing the step behind her and tumbling backward. Gadget took a heartbeat to savour the satisfaction of having paid the guard back for nearly strangling her then slammed the door on the control box before twisting the handle and locking it tight shut.

Bubbles was holding on to the hook with one paw, holding the other out as far as she could reach for Gadget to grab hold. She was already far out of reach, the hook having swung half way out into the middle of the stairwell. It was swinging back but by the time it was closest to Gadget it would be too high to jump.

Gadget assessed the situation, her lightning fast brain searching for a way out and finding none. Then Haggs was back on her feet and tearing at Gadget's prison uniform, lifting Gadget off her feet and shaking her.

Gadget took a deep breath, remembering the last time the rat had laid hands on her. Haggs slammed her against the wall and knocked it back out of her. Being lifted off the ground freed Gadget's feet for action and she used them wildly, kicking and clawing at the rat.

Haggs hissed and moved her paws towards Gadget's throat.

Gadget bit.

Haggs howled and released her.

Gadget kicked out against the top of the control box with one foot and planted the other firmly on Haggs' chest. Before the demented, bullying guard could even step backwards Gadget had taken a giant step from the control box up onto Haggs' shoulders.

As Haggs spluttered and raged and tried to keep her balance, Gadget screwed up her entire body and took a flying leap of faith towards her friend's outstretched hand.

Gadget seemed to hang in the air as time slowed down. It seemed impossible that she could reach the outstretched hand Bubbles was holding out to her, even though the swinging hook was bringing her closer.

"RED!" Bubbles screamed in terror.

Gadget didn't see her life flash before her eyes the way it had the last time she thought she was going to die. That scared her almost as much as the thought of the huge fall she was going to take if she missed the outstretched hand Bubbles was holding out to her.

The hook finished its swing and paused as if holding its breath. Bubbles and the precious chance not to fall to her death was as close as they were ever going to get. For a split second Gadget thought she was going to make it.

Then the hook began to sway away.

Gadget felt the distance between her hand and Bubbles' hand stretch as though her senses had been extended beyond her body and into the air between them. One second Gadget was looking at her friend's anguished face, the next she was looking at her knees as they rushed past an arm's length away.

As Bubbles' feet rushed past in a blur of motion Gadget grabbed wildly as fear took hold of her completely. As her right hand closed around Bubbles' right foot and her left scrambled to join it.

"EEEK!"

Bubbles cried out as though tortured as the weight on her right arm suddenly doubled. The entire right hand side of her body was stretched like a rope.

Gadget felt the feet begin to slip through her paws as time began to speed up again, the world whipping past her as though she was caught in a tornado. There is a difference between catching something and holding it and for Gadget that difference was life and death.

The distance between her and the floor was enough for her hands to tighten of their own accord to the point where her claws raked through Bubbles fur and skin and made her friend scream. Gadget was facing the opposite direction to Bubbles, so her left was Bubbles' right. Gadget moved her right hand to Bubbles' left foot. She couldn't stop her claws digging in point first, hard. Normally she kept them cut short but in Shrankshaw they weren't allowed anything as dangerous as a nail-clipper, so they had grown to a length that could probably tear someone's throat out if she had a mind to.

Gadget, Bubbles, the hook and all its passengers swung alarmingly. The stairwell dropped away as if Gadget was falling in reverse and the airshaft came down to enclose her. Somewhere far, far below, Haggs was screaming with rage.

"You won't get away with this. I'll find you. I know how to find you and when I do, even I don't know what I'll do!"

Gadget saw her claws drawing blood, enough blood that she could smell it. She was sorry, instantly, for Bubbles but knew no regret or sorrow would be enough to make her hands relax their grip even slightly. No matter what part of her friend's anatomy her claws were sinking into.

Above her, Bubbles fought to get her free hand back onto the belt that held her and Gadget above certain death. As she did there was no way she could miss the fact that the belt that held both of them was slipping through her fingers.

"We're going to fall." She hissed through clenched teeth.

Gadget had arrested her fall. "I'm going to climb up."

"Climb up what?"

"You!"

Bubbles looked down and gulped hard. Gadget couldn't tell if she was gulping at the drop below her or the thought of Gadget's claws making their way up her whole body.

Gadget lifted herself as though she were doing chin-ups at her annual physical review. There was nothing to grab but knee. It would have to do. She pulled her way up, one hand over the other, until both hands were just below Bubbles' knees and she couldn't climb any higher because at that point her fingers weren't long enough to wrap around Bubbles legs anymore, which meant she risked losing her grip entirely.

"I can't get any higher." She called up. "I need something to hang on to. Give me your hand."

"Can't." gasped Bubbles. "We'll both fall."

Gadget blinked in consternation. Short of gouging huge holes in her friend she couldn't see another way out of this situation so she hung for a moment, watching the belt slide through Bubbles' grip, millimetre by millimetre.

Something flicked against her face. For a moment, Gadget couldn't imagine what could be at the same height as her to annoy her in such a fashion. Then she saw Bubbles' tail twitching madly, right in front of her nose. The time Bubbles had tugged on her tail for poking her tongue out at a guard came back to her and without a second thought Gadget shifted all her weight to one arm, reached out with the other and took hold of her friend's tail.

"Sorry." She muttered and let go with the other hand.

"AUUUGHHH!" Bubbles cried as Gadget swung from her tail.

Gadget pulled herself up half an arms length and started clawing at Bubbles' waist to use her belt as a handhold.

It wasn't there. The belt wrapped around Bubbles' wrist allowing her to hang from the hook, Gadget belatedly remembered. She snarled and seriously considered sinking her teeth into Bubbles' leg instead. Her fingers found the waistline of the heavy wearing prison uniform, though, and she pulled on it with all her remaining strength.

"What are you doing to me?" Bubbles wailed.

Gadget didn't answer as she used every handhold she could find without fear or embarrassment to get her closer to the hook they hung from. The hook was solid. The hook was good. If she could reach the hook, all would be well.

She dragged herself up by Bubbles' collar and found herself nose to nose with her cellmate, who had begun panting as though she were in labour. They shared one brief, exhausted look at each other and then Gadget climbed on.

Gadget reached the belt Bubbles was hanging onto and kept going.

"What – " Bubbles demanded, before Gadget's foot came down on her face and silenced her.

Gadget reached the hook. The metal felt solid and reliable under her paws. Sheila was clinging on to the shaft and glaring at her.

"You stupid, crazy, dumb – " Sheila snarled at her.

"There's no way to shut this thing down from here. When we reach the top, we'll be pulled into the winding mechanism." Gadget told her the bad news.

"We'll be killed! Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"I forgot. I have to climb up and get there first to switch this thing off!"

Sheila was rocking forward and back on the curved metal bar she was sitting on, fighting to keep her balance. She looked like she was getting seasick. "Okay." She assented miserably. "But you better be more careful where you put your hands and feet than you were with Bubbles!"

"I'll do my best." Gadget promised. "Could you help Bubbles to hold on, once I'm clear?"

Sheila snarled something short and unintelligible but nodded.

Gadget planted her feet on the curve of the hook and gripped the point in one hand to steady her self as she stood up. She put her other hand on top of Sheila's head for balance and forced herself to look up instead of down. They were perhaps half way to the top of the airshaft and her muscles were screaming. She planted a foot on Sheila's shoulder and used the shaft of the hook as a handgrip until she could reach the disc of metal that the twins were standing on.

"Oh no you don't" Yelled one of the twins. "There's no room up here!"

"I got to! Didn't you hear what I told Sheila?" Gadget yelled back.

Gadget took hold of the disk and pulled herself up, her feet on the slippery metal of the hook's shaft as if she were climbing a rope. One of the twins lifted a dainty foot and let Gadget take hold of the cable they were hanging from. Then Gadget's foot slipped and she was hanging by one hand, certain she was going to fall and land on the sharp, unforgiving metal point behind her.

Her voice made a helpless animal sound without the permission of her brain. There was no time to think. Then one of the twins was crouching on the small metal disk and holding on to her.

Gadget felt a gratitude she knew she could never express. The second twin joined the first mirroring her almost perfectly and together they hauled Gadget up until all three of them were perched dangerously on the tiny metal disc that had seemed too small for even one person when they had first seen it.

"Just stay here!" A twin suggested.

"Safer that way." The second agreed.

"I have to get to the machinery!" Gadget insisted. But her muscles were all spent now.

"How much further?" Sheila called up from below.

Gadget looked and was horrified to how close they were to the machinery at the top of the crane. She could see the huge drum of cable, the cogs of the gears, the electric motor that powered the whole thing and the steel edge of the wheel the cable played over that looked as sharp as a bacon-slicer.

Fear was her fuel now, the only thing keeping her going. Gadget shinned up the cable towards the finger hungry pulley wheel above her until she judged that she was far enough above the twins that her body would miss them if she fell. Timing was everything. Get it wrong and her paw would be pulled up into the pulley with the cable.

She reached out with her free hand just a second before the one on the cable was due for its appointment with sharp metal. Her hand closed about the support strut that held the pulley and she released the other hand. Suddenly she was swinging like an ape, from one hand to the next until she was at the edge of the platform that held the lifting equipment.

"There's nowhere to jump to!" called out one of the twins.

"The loading bay is on the other side of the airshaft!" complained the other.

Gadget paused, just as she was about to pull herself up onto the lifting platform and saw that they were right. There was a platform, much like the one they had left behind, on the far side of the airshaft. A pair of stout steel rails held the platform and between them was a single grooved track that meshed with a turning cog below the platform so that the crane could pull itself along.

She dragged herself up onto the platform. The heavy machinery she had come to stop took up most of the space. Her first plan had been to disconnect the power but that meant the platform would be stuck at the end of its rails, as far away from the safety of the loading bay as it could be. She only had moments to come up with an alternative plan of action but Gadget was in her element now. It took a moment to find the cover for the electronic relay system that turned raw current into mechanical movements and gear changes, but when she had found it the cover opened easily.

Gadget took a deep breath and winced in advance of the pain she knew she was about to get and then tweaked a wire she knew she wouldn't be using for what she had in mind. She crossed the wire with the one that carried power to lifting motor and stuck the end of it into another terminal.

A brief blue spark lighted Gadget's face from beneath. The crane lurched under her and from below came the screams of her friends. It began running along the rails at the faster speed that Gadget had rigged a few minutes earlier, just before this crazy ride had begun.

"We're running out of cable!" The twins yelled at her.

Gadget crawled back out onto the crane's arm and held out a hand to the twins below. They both reached for it and then stared at each other.

"You first." Gadget chose a twin at random. The twin took her arm. The weight was so great Gadget feared her arm was going to dislocate.

The first twin pulled herself up to the platform Gadget was standing on. Once there the two of them helped the second twin up with relative ease. The trouble came when they realised the crane wouldn't bring Sheila in reach until the metal disk at the top of the hook was touching the pulley wheel.

"Sheila! You've got to stand up on the hook!"

"I can't!" wailed Sheila.

"You have to!"

Sheila forced herself to put her feet on the swaying metal bar beneath her. The moment she had straightened her legs, the metal disk hit the pulley wheel with a bump that made her sit down again. Sheila's face became a picture of pain.

Gadget winced in sympathy. Before she could urge Sheila to try again the whole crane began to creak.

"This thing I'm sitting on is getting really hot!" one of the twins yelled at her.

Gadget looked back more in surprise than concern and realised the twin was sitting on the electric motor. As she watched, the motor began to throw sparks. "Get clear!" she told the twins. "Use the rails this thing is running on to get to the platform."

The twins looked at her in alarm.

"We can't walk on those rails!" The other twin told her. "They're too rounded and narrow! It'd be like walking a tightrope!"

"You don't have to walk on them! The speed this thing is coming apart, you're going to have to run!" Gadget told them. She turned back to find Sheila standing with an arm stretched out to her. Gadget risked her weight to the crane arm again and clasped hands with Sheila.

The task of pulling Sheila up to the platform was easier with the hook briefly stationary.

"Go on. Follow the twins." Gadget yelled, looking back over her shoulder to see that the twins were indeed almost running along the notched third rail that the platform was winding itself along. The platform was moving at such a speed that it was dogging the twins' heels at every step.

"Hey, what about – " Bubbles called out but was cut of by an ugly pinging sound from the cable besides Gadget. The metal of the pulley arm creak and crack.

Gadget looked at the support arm, knowing instantly and from long experience that it was about to fail catastrophically and that she had exactly enough time to jump for cover and do nothing else. Her reflexes took over and she was jumping, one foot coming down on the winding drum of cable, the next on the back of the electric motor. The motor was hot enough to singe her hair and fur as she dropped into a low crouch behind it and waited for the end.

"Hey! Where did you go? Come back!" Bubbles screamed.

Gadget put her paws over her ears. She told herself it was to shut out the sound of failing metal and grinding gears. The motor threw sparks through its ventilation grill, burning holes in her uniform.

The end came with the scream of tortured metal and tearing of metal teeth stripping the gears. The drum of cable jumped on its bearings as though it were about to break free entirely go spilling down the airshaft. The metal gave up before the cable. The wheel at the end of the arm broke free of its bearing with gunshot crack and bounced over the cable drum and past Gadget. It hit one of the rails the platform was crawling along and ricocheted into the airshaft below. A long, loud, ringing sound reverberated off the metal walls, as though someone had struck a large brass bell.

The cable continued to make dangerous pinging sounds. Gadget knew that when it snapped both ends would break free of the tension with enough force tear someone's head off. She also knew that Bubbles would fall to her death.

The pulley wheel of the arm came down on the cable drum, having been bent double by the force of the motor. The fraying part of the cable that had been caught between the two long metal struts and one of a triangular piece of tin that reinforced the lifting arm pulled free and began to wrap around the drum, which was grating against the metal arm.

Gadget closed her eyes and thought of Bubbles, her only friend since this nightmare had begun. Suddenly the top of the hook appeared over the top of the cable drum. Gadget could hear Bubbles screaming from the other side of the drum. Gadget stood up in time to see the whole hook flip over the drum barrel.

Bubbles gave a long Doppler shifted scream that ended with her flopping over the casing of the electric motor and laying there like a stunned fish. She blinked at Gadget dazedly for a second and Gadget wanted nothing more than to give her a big hug.

Then the metal hook, its shaft as thick as Gadget's wrist, gave way. The cable drum began to bend the hook around itself like a man toying with a rubber band.

"Eeep!" Bubbles had time to yelp and flail with her free hand before being yanked backward off the motor casing and toward the cable drum.

Gadget grabbed her friend's hand, trying futilely to stop her from being pulled into the cable drum and turned into mincemeat. There was no way she could be stronger than the motor. Gadget glanced back at the electronics box that controlled the motor and the gears but she had closed the cover. Even with a quick jump and if she found the right cable at a glance, which she might, Bubbles would be gone by then. She looked back to Bubbles to tell her to let go of the belt and knew she didn't even have time for that.

The belt.

Gadget's eyes went to the belt. She saw the problem in an instant. Bubbles had wrapped the belt tightly around her wrist with some loops crossing others. The problem was her own weight had tightened the belt even further and now the belt might have well been tied to her with the Gordian knot.

Gadget knew what she had to do but Bubbles' paw was already almost touching the cable drum. Without hesitation she put her head right under the cable drum, into the lion's mouth, and bit down twice on the belt as hard as she could.

The belt gave way and Bubbles and Gadget scrambled backwards and clambered over the electrical motor to relative safety. Together they gasped for breath and shook with relief. Bubbles looked over at Gadget and their eyes met. For a second, Gadget expected her to start laughing the way she did with the Rangers after a close call.

Instead, Bubbles looked down at something, then back at Gadget with an arched eyebrow.

Gadget shook her head blankly.

Bubbles lifted her arm and shook her hand, which Gadget was still clasping. They were holding hands. Gadget started to giggle. Then a dreadful crack sounded behind them. She looked over the top of the motor and saw the cable drum bouncing on it's bearing. The barb of the hook had dug into the surface of the platform and now the cable drum was tearing itself free, using what was left of the hook.

"Big trouble coming this way!" Gadget told Bubbles.

"Haggs?"

"Worse than Haggs!"

"There's nothing worse than Haggs."

"The cable drum is about to come after us."

"Except that." Bubbles staggered to her feet.

Together, the pair stood on the edge of the platform and looked at the safety of the loading bay where Sheila and the twins were waving at them.

"Jump?" Suggested Bubbles.

"Couldn't we walk the rail? I'm so tired." Gadget pleaded.

"You think we've got time before the drum breaks free?" Bubbles asked, looking over her shoulder.

Gadget looked back with her. "In theory, my guess would be – "

CRACK!

The cable drum reared up over the electrical motor.

"-No!" Gadget finished. "Jump for it!"

The cable drum rolled up and over the motor and gears that drove it, still turning with its fearsome momentum.

Gadget and Bubbles took a great breath and leapt for the platform. The cable drum bounced off the platform where they had been standing. The distance between the platform and the loading bay was less than it had been when Sheila and the twins had made their way across the rails but the drop below them if either of them missed their target seemed greater than ever.

The cable drum bounded over them, tumbling into the darkness and crashing against the metal wall, setting up echo after echo that must have travelled to every part of Shrankshaw and the human prison above.

Gadget landed first. Her legs folded under her and she rolled, cannon-balling into the twins, who went down on top of her in a heap.

Bubbles landed flat on all fours with a bang and lay there gasping like a fish on a riverbank. She closed her eyes, feeling she could lie there for a hundred years and not get up. Finally, she opened an eye and took in the comic tangle of arms and legs beside her.

"Are you having fun there?" She quipped.

"Uh, could someone get their… whatever-that-is out of my face?" Red asked.

Giggling, the twins untangled themselves.

"You, girl, have a talent for destruction." The first one to free her self said.

"Yeah, we're really unleashing a dangerous force on the world by setting you free! Think we should take her back, so the guards can lock her safely away again?" The other agreed as she struggled free.

"HEY!" Red squeaked.

"Pipe down, Red. They've got a point." Bubbles instructed. "I doubt Gadget Hackwrench could have done a better job of destroying that thing if she had wanted it in pieces in short order."

"I didn't!"

Bubbles turned a jaundiced eye on the smoking platform that was still moving towards them. "It looks pretty well destroyed to me and we all saw you do it."

"That's right!" Sheila added from the doorway.

"You go on denying it and I may remember that you swung from my tail for just long enough to give the twins that show they wanted." Bubbles threatened.

Red looked suitably chastened.

"How do we get those doors open?" Bubbles asked Sheila. "That platform is getting closer every second and I don't want another encounter with it."

"It's locked, barred and bolted." Sheila reported.

Everyone groaned.

"From the inside." Sheila grinned at them and slid back a large iron bolt.

They opened the doors just as the crane platform reached the end of its rails and started throwing sparks in all directions. The gears began to make a loud whirring noise and smoke began to pour out of the motor.

Sheila slid the heavy door shut behind them, cutting off the dreadful swansong of heavy machinery and twisted metal behind them. Together, the rag tag band of escapees staggered away from what seemed to be a large square metal air vent on the roof of the human prison that had been built over Shrankshaw.

There was an open sky with a full moon above them. The moon was ripe and yellow. It seemed to scowl down at them but even so it was the prettiest thing they had ever seen.

"Three months." Said Gadget. The others looked at her. "Three months. That's how long I've been inside. I don't think I've ever spent so long indoors. Not even after my father died. I'd forgotten how big the outside was."

"Is that the moon or sun?" One of the twins asked.

Everyone stared at her.

"We've been inside a little longer than three months." The other apologised.

"Moon. It's night and that breeze is bringing a storm in from the east." Bubbles said. "My folks lived on a farm. You learned to keep an eye on the weather."

"That's not all it's bringing." Gadget said. "Feels like it's bringing freedom to me."


	28. The Stormy Goodbye

Disclaimer

In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone… except a certain kind of lawyer.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The Stormy Goodbye

193

Chip felt as though he had stepped through the looking glass into a nightmare world where good and bad were their opposites and nothing made sense. Worst of all was the suspicion that the world had been like this all along and he had just never seen it before. Admittedly, the humiliation of standing in handcuffs while the Streetwatch roused his friends to explain the situation - or their interpretation of it - came a close second.

He couldn't actually see the eyes and other sensory organs of his nocturnal neighbours soaking up the drama that was unfolding but he could certainly feel them on him. He hoped that Monty would get here soon and be able to sort things out. He had made a stab at explaining things to the uniformed chipmunk but the trouble was he was facing a crisis on three fronts.

The first thing he had to contend with was the false but undoubtedly sincere accusation of attempted murder from the Streetwatch patrol he had blundered into. Chip had taken a stab at trying to explain the situation but quickly found himself floundering in exactly the way he had heard a great many guilty people flounder when caught red-pawed. The fact that he really didn't have an explanation didn't help matters.

The second was his own, genuine, concern for Dale's health. Dale was the oldest friend he had and though he could not believe that Dale would not recover from this, as he had from everything else that had ever happened to him, the sight of him suffering was deeply upsetting. The Streetwatch were, perhaps understandably, refusing to let Chip anywhere near Dale, let alone check on his friend's state or administer first aid.

The third but irresistible force acting on Chip was the desire to find the solution to the mystery before him. Dale had been clunked on the head, nearly killed, and concealed in a rubbish sack in Gadget's workshop. Gadget had been the last person to see Dale, from what Monty had said when Chip met him in the hall. The front door had been ajar when he reached it, which meant there could be a stranger in the tree house. The alternative was that everyone in the headquarters that evening was a suspect. He didn't want to consider that.

He tried his luck with the young squirrel who had challenged him. "Hey, search the tree house, would you? The door was open when I got to it. There could be an intruder."

"Oh, so there's an intruder now, is there?" The squirrel replied mockingly. Her torchlight hadn't left his eyes since the chipmunk patroller had ordered him cuffed.

"Just ask your boss, would ya?"

"I heard." The chipmunk's gruff voice sounded behind him. "We've got probable cause, so we were fixing to search the place anyway, and I already knew about the door. Saw the crack of light from the ground before we came up. If there's anything or anyone where they shouldn't be, we'll find out about it and lay it all out in front of a judge bound up in pretty red tape."

"Darn, I hope I don't sound like you when I'm dealing with a suspect." Chip spoke distractedly, without thinking.

"If we don't find an intruder in there, you'll be able to ask some of your old suspects in person." The chipmunk replied before turning away to greet Monty.

Monty had come to the door dressed in a long, cheese-stained nightshirt and a nightcap. Though still huge and looming in the doorframe, the nightshirt made it plain the bodybuilder had long run to seed and Chip doubted any of the patrol was intimidated. The sight of fluffy caterpillar slippers on the Australian mouse's feet crushed his last hope that Monty could re-establish the Ranger's authority over the situation.

"Wha's 'appen'ng?" Monty asked drowsily. "Is it a rescue?"

"Kinda." The chipmunk patroller said. "You might say we just rescued somebody."

Monty's eyes went wide and his jaw slack as the torch shone down on Dale's helpless, inert body.

"Dale! My little pally! Is he gonna be alright, Watcher?"

"Winterstore. Patrol Leader Winterstore." The chipmunk identified himself.

"I'd been meaning to ask your name." Chip said from where he was being held against the bark of his own tree. "Monty, meet Patrol Leader Winterstore, Patroller Hazelleaf and Patroller Ramon. Ramon is the lizard they sent to wake you. Someone called Joey has already been sent to get reinforcements from the local Headquarters. Hopefully that will include someone with medical experience, since they won't let me do anything for Dale, and someone bright enough to know they've made a BIG mistake."

Monty scratched his head, blinking into the darkness where he could hear Chip's voice coming from. "What mistake might that be, Chipper?"

There was a short silence while everyone digested the words.

"Ah-ha." Chip tried to laugh it off as the true explanation filtered into his already shock-overloaded brain. "My friend's eyes haven't adjusted to the light yet, so apparently he can't see that you have me in CUFFS and pressed up against the side of my own home."

"Cuffs? Are you saying Chip did this?" Monty asked in a disbelieving voice.

"Ah ha, Mister… Jack, is it?" Patrol Leader Winterstore scratched his head. "I'm afraid we came on Mister Maplewood - " There's still some hope of straightening this out if it's still Mister Maplewood, Chip thought desperately " - about to drop this sack containing Mister Oakmont off the edge of the balcony. He CLAIMS he had no idea how Mister Oakmont got in the sack."

Monty blinked, bewilderedly. He was crouching next to Dale, patting the chipmunk's paw in an effort to stir some signs of life. "Could it have been a practical joke?"

Winterstore looked over at the young gecko and raised an eyebrow. "A practical joke sir?"

"Dale loves playing jokes. Got a terrific sense of 'umour, the lad has. Doesn't know when to quit." Monty seemed to be preparing a eulogy.

"Mister Maplewood also seems unable to account for Mister Oakmont's head injury." Winterstore added.

"Head injury?" Monty asked in a far away voice.

"Look for yourself." Winterstore shone his torch on Dale's head, allowing Monty to examine the wound.

"Chip - !" Monty strangled what he was about to say. Instead, he asked a lesser question. "Chip, did you do this to Dale?"

Chip felt the fur on the back of his arms rise. It wasn't the sort of question a person asked unless they already believed the answer was yes and wanted to hear otherwise. If Monty believed this of him, what chance did he have of convincing anyone else?

"No! Of course not, Monty! They need to search the house. The door was open when I got to it. I thought Gadget left it open when she went to visit her friend. Someone else may be inside." Chip insisted furiously.

He could feel part of his own brain standing back and watching his performance dispassionately. He recognised it as the part himself he thought of as Sureluck Maplewood, his own internal consulting detective.

Where were you when I needed you? Chip demanded.

Tch, I don't know. Sureluck answered. The evidence is pretty steep, old boy, and you sound guilty even to your own ears. Maybe you should confess now and the boys and I will go easy on you for old times sake…

Monty carried Dale to the nearest bed and the two young patrollers went off together to sweep the house for Chip's mythical intruder. It would look bad for him if they didn't find one, Chip admitted to himself, and now he had time to think about it, he doubted they would.

The whole situation was beginning to look like a skilful and deliberate frame up designed specifically to take out the Rangers. Chip considered the possibility that the Street Watch were behind the plot and didn't like how good it sounded. There were some ambitious, political types in the Street Watch, which had been competing with the Rangers in this part of the city for a couple of years. But Chip didn't see Patrol Leader Winterstore as anything other than a genuine, hard working patroller and the rookies didn't fit into the picture of a Street Watch frame up at all. Better to use experienced people who were in on it right from the start. Rookies might foul up carefully planted evidence or miss the whole set up entirely.

That left the possibility of an intruder, which wouldn't be a random sneak thief. They knew better.

Chip bounced his forehead gently against the trunk of the tree.

An intruder capable of entering the Headquarters undetected, knocking out Dale before he could raise the alarm and then concealing all evidence of their visit, including Dale's unconscious body, so well that nobody noticed a thing. That suggested a trained professional, probably hired by someone who wanted something badly, possibly Dale nearly dead and one of the other Rangers blamed for it. If that was the case the culprit would probably be out of town by sunrise and only Dale could say what he looked like.

Dale didn't look like saying anything before sunrise, if he ever spoke again.

Alternatively, someone had left the door open and an opportunist had entered the house from some unknown strong personal motive, been surprised by Dale, clunked him and hidden him in the first place they could find before fleeing the scene unnoticed through blind luck.

Gadget had been known to absentmindedly leave the front door open but never at night. Chip conceded he had been distracted this evening but Monty hadn't and he had been actively searching the tree for Dale.

Not an opportunist then.

Chip ran through a list of professional crooks capable of this kind of job. There weren't many and none he knew of in the city at present. Two were dead, Chip knew for certain. The Rangers had put another in jail and had he escaped Chip would have been told immediately. Only two others remained; one was in Europe and the other had been missing for five years, probably dead or retired. Chip considered both before reluctantly dismissing them.

Without an intruder Chip was left with the people who were in the house, including himself, and the bizarre possibility put forward by Monty: That Dale had climbed into the sack to play a joke and had received his head injury while inside it. Chip could picture it, but Monty hadn't known about the practical joke Dale had already played this evening, with a little assistance from Gadget. It had been a doozey and not even the red-nosed clown would have been foolish enough to play another prank on Chip that evening.

That left one of them, a member of their little "family".

Zipper lacked the strength to put Dale in the sack, even if he had managed to lift something heavy enough high enough to cause this kind of damage to someone a dozen times his size.

Monty had been genuinely shocked when he saw Dale on the porch. The stories that the big mouse told had more fibs than Gouda had holes. You'd think his fibs would improve with all the practice he gets, Chip thought irritably, but I can always tell and Monty wasn't faking when he saw Dale.

Chip knew he hadn't done it and that brought him to Gadget by a process of elimination. Sure, Gadget had a temper, but if Chip knew one thing it was that Gadget and Dale had been on the best of terms tonight.

Chip looked sideways at Sureluck Maplewood, who was whistling with his feet up on his imaginary office desk.

I could use some help here, Chip prodded.

Nobody here but us figments of your imagination, Sureluck responded.

If I go down, I'm taking you with me! Chip imagined himself snarling back.

Sureluck waved him off with a haughty, unconcerned air. It's not like I didn't try to warn you but you just wouldn't listen.

Warn me? Chip raged at him. When did you try to warn me? You said nothing!

I can only say what you care to imagine me saying, old boy. If I could speak up any time I pleased, you might have an insanity defence.

"I ain't crazy." Chip said sullenly.

"What's that?" Winterstore demanded with sudden interest.

Chip started. "Uh, nothing. I was just thinking aloud."

Winterstore looked at him carefully. "Right." He drawled.

Chip scowled and returned to his thoughts. He didn't notice when Winterstore scratched another note in his notebook.

Now see what you made me do! He berated Sureluck. What use are you, anyway, you and every other fictional detective? You sit there looking smug, like you've skipped to the last page and already know all the answers when really you haven't got any more of clue than me!

You just don't get it do you? Sureluck shook his head at Chip, sadly. You're right, dear boy, I only have the same clues you do. The answer's staring you in the face but you just won't let yourself see it.

See what? Chip raged.

It's like a blind spot you've made to blot out everything to do with a certain lady because there's something about her that scares the wits out of you, Sureluck explained.

Great, now I'm being psychoanalysed by a figment of my imagination, Chip sneered. Maybe I should go with that insanity defence after all.

Maybe you should. Now, if you don't mind, Doctor Blotson and I have dinner invitation.

But what about me, I mean us? Chip pleaded.

You got yourself into this. Now you'll just have to get yourself out.

Chip gave up on the imaginary conversation. The scene was based on part of a short story where Doctor Blotson had boasted that he had learned all Sureluck Jones's methods and become just as good a detective as he was. Jones had put him in his place by "arranging" for Doctor Blotson to be landed with a mystery Jones's own devising. Chip wished the mystery in front of him could be resolved so easily, but Dale's injuries were quite real.

Ramon, the lizard, returned and reported the intruder free status of Ranger Headquarters. Winterstore turned a pair of cold, hard eyes on Chip and began to ask a litany of pointless, irritating questions that Chip hated to admit that he would have asked too, had their situations been reversed.

Chip answered the questions mechanically, knowing that it would only lead inexorably to the point where Winterstore, out of questions and ideas, would say that he was sure that all this could be cleared up down at the stationhouse.

A doctor arrived for Dale and followed by two detectives who repeated Winterstore's list of questions with a few new ones of their own thrown in. Chip carefully gave the same answers, deliberately varying his choice of words so that it didn't sound like he had rehearsed his answers.

In the end the detectives closed their notebooks and went to carefully look over what they were now calling the crime scene. Chip looked at the strangers bustling through his home as though it had become a public place and wondered if it would ever feel like home again.

"Mister Maplewood?" A young voice sounded behind him.

Chip looked up into the face of Patroller Hazelleaf. She looked a little sorry for him, perhaps even disappointed. Perhaps she had looked up to him before this, even considered him a role model. Dear Lord, this was going to hurt so many people if he couldn't find the truth and expose it before too much damage was done.

"Its time for us to take you to the stationhouse." She motioned for him to stand up.

Numbly, wondering how the world could turn upside-down so quickly, Chip stood and allowed himself to be lead away, past the crowd of neighbours. As he went, it occurred to him for the first time to wonder what Gadget would think when she heard the news.

194

Dale found himself sitting on a bench in a waiting room. He wasn't sure how long he had been waiting but apparently it was long enough that he had forgotten what he was waiting for. He looked up from the thumbs he was twiddling and glanced around the room. There was an old chipmunk dressed in rags sitting at the far end of the bench trying to look like he wanted to be left alone. There was a young mouse in a ballerina costume practicing pirouettes, apparently unsupervised in the middle of the room. The room itself was large, well lit and airy and whoever had done the decorating had gone overboard with the colour white.

White, Dale remembered, was not strictly a colour but merely a combination of colours. Despite the fact he could never mix it with his paint set, no matter how many colours he used. Dale frowned. It wasn't the sort of thing that would have occurred to him normally. It sounded like the sort of thing Chip would say. Dale looked around for Chip.

Chip wasn't there.

In fact, no one Dale knew was present and, since none of the few people who were there seemed very interested in conversation, Dale looked for a comic book or even a magazine to read. There weren't any. Not a one.

Even the crummiest waiting rooms had a few old magazines! Dale thought to himself and turned to the old chipmunk instead.

"Uh, excuse me." Dale started.

"You aren't going to tell me your life story are you?" The old chipmunk asked suspiciously.

Dale blinked. "Why would I want to do a stupid thing like that?"

"You haven't got a box of chocolates hidden anywhere about your person, have you?" the old chipmunk raised a walking stick threateningly.

"Uh, why? Did you lose some?" Dale asked uneasily. It wouldn't be the first time chocolate went missing and everybody automatically blamed him.

"No! I didn't lose any and I don't want any. Why every darn fool thinks he's entitled to tell you his whole life story just because he's offered you a chocolate I don't know." The chipmunk seemed to have retreated into a world of his own.

"I just wanted to know where we are." Dale said quickly.

"What kind of a fool question is that? We're in the waiting room, of course! Where did you think you were? The bathroom?" The chipmunk stood up suddenly as if he had just remembered something and hobbled away on his stick.

Dale watched him go until a flicker of motion caught his eye. The little mouse girl in the tutu had come up to him and was staring at him with an expression of delighted interest. Dale flicked his eyes right and left to see if there was someone else who could help him here but next nearest person was an old shrew woman who was knitting with intense concentration in one corner of the room.

"Do you know why we're all here?" the little girl asked breathlessly.

"Uh, no. I don't." Dale answered defensively. Did she want to make something of it?

"I know why I'm here." The little girl sighed with exaggerated melodrama.

Dale tried to think of an answer the child wouldn't need to reply to but couldn't think of one immediately.

"Why is that?" He asked.

"I fell off the stage." She whispered as if telling a secret and then stood there with her hands behind her back, waiting for his reaction.

What did she expect from him? Dale's instinct was to say: "That was a pretty silly thing to do." But that might make her cry and he didn't want to do that.

"You fell off the stage?" he repeated thoughtlessly.

The little girl nodded solemnly.

"Oh." He looked sad.

"Do you know why you're here?"

Dale blinked. He realised he hadn't the faintest idea.

"No." He admitted. "Do you know why I'm here?"

"Uh-uh." The child shook her head. "Try to remember. When you remember why you're here, I bet you'll know where you are." She confided.

It sounded like a good theory to Dale. He nodded. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." The little girl pirouetted away.

Dale watched her go then frowned. What was he doing here? He couldn't remember. The little girl had been in an accident. Was this a doctor's surgery?

"Mister Oakmont? Dale Oakmont?" a clipped British accent came from beside him.

Dale looked up in surprise. He hadn't noticed anyone come in. "Uh, I'm Dale Oakmont. What can I do for you?"

A tall mouse with light tan fur, dressed like someone from one of Chip's detective stories, was standing next to him and holding a clipboard. He smiled. "Excellent attitude, but I'm actually here to help you."

Dale scratched his head, which had been bothering him lately. "Well, you've been doing a pretty poor job so far." He opined. "I can't remember where I am or why I'm here or anything and this waiting room doesn't even have any comic books."

The mouse looked affronted.

"Comic books?" he repeated, as though the phrase was from a foreign language. "Ah ha. Indeed. Well, we'll have to see what we can do about that." The mouse made tick on his clipboard as though there were a checkbox next to the words "Comic books".

"Are you a doctor?" Dale asked.

"A doctor - good heavens, no! Though I have a very good friend who was in the medial profession and I have a little talent for anatomy. I'm just here to make sure you get back to where you belong."

Dale scratched his head and scowled. It was really itching, like a scab that was ready to come off. "Where I belong? Where's that?"

"Why, back at Ranger Headquarters, with your friends, of course."

Dale scowled. "Ah, phooey. I'm not going back. They don't need me there anyway."

The mouse looked at him with alarm. "Er, well I - that is to say, I mean… See here, you simply must go back! Why, we can't have you cluttering up the place forever! Um. Well, technically we can, but don't you want to go back to your, er, comic books?"

Dale thought about it and didn't find the idea as alluring as he had expected. "Ah, I've read them all fifty times already. Except the latest Kablammo Man, issue ninety-seven, I only got that last week so I've only read it a dozen times or so."

The mouse looked even more alarmed. "Mister Oakmont, have you considered what may happen if you don't go back?"

"Ah, they don't need me. I'm a goof up and a clown. All they do is get annoyed with me and shove me around." Dale folded his arms and sat back as though he considered the matter closed.

The mouse sat beside Dale and nervously glanced sideways at him from time to time. "Get annoyed with you, do they? Shove you around, ay? I can see why you'd get tired of that. Still, I dare say everyone feels like that sometimes. Just have to soldier on and that's all there is to it."

"Ah, you don't know anything about me." Dale dismissed him.

"Offhand, I know only your name which you have admitted, that you like comic books which you have told me, that you are good with children which I have seen for myself, that you exercise regularly, are left handed, have a vivid imagination and like chocolate."

Dale looked sideways at him. "You're a detective?"

"I was, in my own small way."

Dale rolled his eyes heavenwards. "Great. Another detective. What did I do to deserve this?"

"You know a detective?"

"My best friend thinks he's a detective." Dale complained.

"Thinks he is? You mean he's mistaken?"

"He thinks he's a great detective just because of some stupid hat he found. Do you think he'd consider me a great detective if I found it first?"

"A hat? A hat doesn't make a detective. Why, I had some of my greatest triumphs without a hat on my head. Of course, if a fellow has a few successes in a particular hat, he might get attached to it. Ha-ha, no harm in that. I suppose that if someone were to be very successful, and they wore a particular kind of hat a lot, people might just remember a man in a hat and his triumphs and forget the details. People are like that." The mouse sounded defensive.

Dale said nothing.

"Er, if you don't mind me asking, what kind of hat is it?"

"A fedora."

"A FEDORA?" Thundered the mouse. "What kind of a detective wears a fedora, I ask you? Fedoras are ten a penny, no distinction at all."

Dale looked at the mouse in amazement.

The mouse saw his expression and stopped. He looked embarrassed. "Well, I suppose there have been a great number of detectives since my day."

"Who are you, anyway?" Dale demanded. "What do you want with me?"

"Forgive me, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Basil and I want to help you to get home before you forget the way."

"I already forgot the way. I can't even remember how I got here." Dale complained.

"What's the last thing you do remember?" Basil enquired with sudden interest.

"I was sitting down and watching television with Monty and we'd just seen the end of a two-part story. For some reason they weren't going to show the second part and Monty said we'd just have to make it up for ourselves."

"Television. Yes. Never seen it myself, of course." Basil said dubiously.

Dale looked astonished. He thought everyone had seen television.

"Go on, what next?" Basil asked him.

"I realised something important and stood up. I wanted to draw something. There had been a crime. A crime where two people looked the same and one of them was bad and impersonating the good one."

Basil started. "Indeed? And you discovered this crime?"

"It was in a comic book but I wanted to solve it. It had been left hanging because they stopped printing it halfway through a serial."

"A comic book? I say, I thought you'd found out about - never mind." Basil looked as if he'd just made a stupid mistake. "I hate it when they do that with a serial, don't you? I never could work out who killed Edwin Drood, I had to wait until I met the author to find out."

"I wanted to draw an ending for the story so I went to get paper." Dale was remembering now. "I knew Chip was in a bad mood because he had some case he was working on that didn't make sense to him."

"Did he tell you about it?"

"Yes, earlier. He said he knew he had all the right pieces but no matter how he tried to put them together he couldn't understand the picture they made."

"I see. Well, sometimes the eye sees but the brain gets in the way." Basil said.

"Eww. That sounds like something out of a horror movie." Dale told him.

"Horror movie? Never mind, you were telling me about what happened after you decided to draw a comic book."

"I went to get paper and I knew Chip was in a lousy temper, so I went to borrow it from Gadget instead. She was mad at me for interrupting something she was working on, not an invention like usual, but something she was writing." Dale frowned. "It's hazy but she said something that didn't sound like Gadget and I got a crazy idea…"

"Go on." Basil smiled kindly.

"I got the idea that maybe it was like the case of the criminal copy where there was an impostor who kept getting mixed up with the real hero, and somehow we had gotten stuck with the wrong one. But that would mean the real Gadget was the one who got sentenced to fifteen years in jail and that doesn't make sense, because Chip told us she had been gagged when he went to see her because of the awful language she was using and that she'd started a riot, which sure doesn't sound like our Gadget to me. You'd know if you'd ever met her."

"Not in this life time, sadly." Basil smiled again.

"But then when I'd decided I must be imagining things I got some scrap paper out of the waste-bin and read some of what she'd written." Dale jumped to his feet as the memory hit home. "Oh my gosh! She really WAS Lawhiney! Do you know what that means?"

"That you have to go back to your old life so you can tell everyone?" Basil stood up as well with a hopeful expression.

"No, it means Gadget must know some words a lot stronger than 'Jeepers' and 'Golly'! I just can't imagine her saying them!" Dale stuffed his paws into his mouth to stifle the giggles. "What words to you think she knows?"

"I really couldn't imagine." Basil said dryly. "What happened after that?"

"She hit me over the head with a large lug wrench. I think it was Gadget's favourite. The one her father used."

"And now do you know where you are?"

Dale looked around him as though he had just woken up for the first time. "I'm the in-between place aren't I? The one where you wait to see if you live or die."

"That's not quite what we call it around here but that's what it's for, yes." Basil nodded and placed an arm around the chipmunk's shoulders so he could gently steer him towards the exit. Dale allowed himself to be led out of the waiting room happily.

"Is this going to be like one of those clip shows on TV where they save money by having the hero in a hospital bed and someone dressed in white shows him clips of the old episodes? Do I get to see the bit where me and Chip put on dresses and did the Fat Cat stomp? Because it was really funny to see Chip in a dress!"

Basil gaped at him. For a moment Dale thought he was going to try and hide behind his clipboard.

"Um, that wasn't quiet what I had planned." Basil said. "I was going to show you a few bits of what might happen if you don't go back. Try and convince you the world is a better place with you than without you." He explained after a moment.

Dale looked disappointed. "Oh, well I guess that's cool too. Say, if we're going to visit the future, could we swing by the lottery stand to see what next week's winning numbers are? I'd sure like to win the lottery and get a proper library for my comic books."

"We'll see." Basil said in that careful grown up way that means 'No'. "Now if you'll just follow me, young fella, I have our whole tour well planned."

"What do we get to see first?"

"I believe we'll see your friend Chip stand trail for your murder."

"That sound's plenty funny. I'm going to enjoy that. Can we fast forward through the boring legal stuff?"

"I'll try." Basil promised, wondering what fast forward meant. "Then I thought we might stop in on young Tammy and see what happens when someone of that impressionable age has their heart broken and their faith in their role-model destroyed at the same time. After that, I thought we might visit that bat whose letters you never return. It's very difficult to write a letter when you don't have any fingers, by the way."

"Ah, I always mean to write back. I just never seem to get around to it."

"Perhaps you should find the time when you go back. Oh, and for our big finale I thought we'd visit Gadget."

"Gadget?"

"Yes, see what her world will be like with Chip in jail, you dead, and everyone thinking she was the cause of their fatal argument."

"That's crazy! We fight all the time but it's not her fault. It's not like she makes us quarrel."

"But you do fight over her." Basil pointed out carefully.

"Well sure, but that's because she won't tell Chip she likes me best and Chip won't see sense and back down!"

"I see - oof!" Basil had walked into a smaller figure, a robed mouse who had been hurrying back and forth across the corridor, looking at the numbers on the infinite line of doors that stretched all the way to the vanishing point.

"Oh, excuse me. I was looking for room fourteen thousand and - You!" The robed figure exclaimed.

"YOU!" Basil was aghast. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be watching Lawhiney!"

"Hey, don't I know you?" Dale said staring at the short mouse with the ginger moustache.

The mouse stared back at him. "Oh, drat! Did you die after all?"

Basil ignored the interruption. "Hackwrench, you're supposed to be on hand at the moment of crisis! Without you Lawhiney doesn't stand a chance!"

"GEEGAW! You're Gadget's DAD! Wowie, it sure is an honour to meet you, sir!" Dale tried to make his best impression. "Say, do you mind if I ask how do you feel about cross-species dating?"

Geegaw did a double take at Dale that would have made a silent comedian proud. "You aren't my type!" he snapped.

"NEVER MIND ALL THAT!" Basil shouted. "I'm trying to find out why you are here instead of making sure all our hard work with Lawhiney isn't wasted!"

"I've been summoned to appear before the committee." Geegaw said sourly. "From what they said last time I'm going to be permanently suspended, probably over something nasty that's bubbling." He held out a scroll of paper.

Basil read it hurriedly. "In accordance with time honoured treaty and custom, yes, yes, we know all that. We hereby do solemnly summon the trainee guide assigned to… Oh, CRUD! I should have known the other side would pull a fast one."

"What? Slow down, what are you talking about?" Geegaw complained. "What fast one? I've been expecting this for weeks and come to that, what do you mean all OUR hard work on Lawhiney? Just exactly when have you done anything to help?"

Basil laughed politely. "My dear Hackwrench, in case you've forgotten, I'm the one who got you assigned to her case in the first place. And with your grades in the academy, that was no mean feat, I can assure you."

"Am I supposed to thank you for that?" Geegaw countered wryly.

"We'll see." Basil retorted.

"Hey, I want to know something!" Dale butted in.

Basil and Geegaw stared at him.

"If you must know," Geegaw began, "I can't say I've ever really had strong feelings about cross species dating. Always figured that sort of thing was down to the couple involved. I've got a feeling I'm going to have to get used to the idea though, Dale, because it seems like Chip has really set his heart on my girl."

Dale blinked at him. "Uh, I just wanted to ask who the 'other side' that Basil mentioned were."

"Is that all?" Asked Basil, flatly.

"That and what was the 'fast one' they pulled?" Dale gulped.

"The forces of good and evil are always locked in conflict but that conflict is carefully controlled to prevent it destroying the earthly world and all the mortals who dwell there, which would plunge creation back into chaos. Over time a number of tremendously complicated treaties, customs and traditions have grown up as a way of keeping this conflict at a manageable level." Basil explained.

"Geegaw is a Guide," Basil went on, "sent to assist those on earth who have lost their way until they have found their feet again, so to speak. The other side send people to do essentially the same job, though they act a little more like recruiting officers and are called Advocates. Guides and Advocates don't so much work together as against each other. They ensure the person they've been assigned to, Lawhiney in this case, understands the difference between right and wrong and also the reason why they have chosen one over the other."

Dale blinked at him. "Like those old cartoons where the little guy with a pitchfork appears over Donald's left shoulder and the little guy with a halo appears on his right and they argue about what he should do?"

"I expect so." Basil replied, wondering who Donald was. "Anyway, because agents from both sides are working in close contact with each other the whole system has to be closely watched to make sure our guides aren't handing out halos on street corners and their advocates aren't using bribery and coercion. Our side has a committee. The other side has a tribunal. Since neither side trusts the other not to turn a blind eye to their own people cheating, each side has a representative on the other side's group. Do you understand so far?"

"I got it." Geegaw nodded.

"I know YOU'VE got it! YOU studied it in training school for the first six months!" Basil roared. "I'm asking Dale if HE'S got it!"

Dale looked dazed. "Uh, it's kind of complicated and I think I've forgotten what the questions I asked was."

"The one on cross-species dating?" Geegaw asked in surprise.

"NO, OF COURSE NOT! He means the question about what kind of 'fast one' the other side has just pulled."

Geegaw thought about it for a second. "What does anything you've just explained have to do with the other side pulling a fast one?"

"Haven't you been listening? They've got an official stooge on the committee that decides whether you get to keep your job or not and that stooge has asked for an emergency meeting, which you have to be at, right at the critical moment! ARRGGGHHH! I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THEY WOULD TRY SOMETHING LIKE THIS!" Basil stamped his foot in frustration. "Their stooge - one Montague Fidget by name, with whom I have some experience - is going to make sure you're tied up in red tape right when Lawhiney needs you the most!"

Geegaw looked pale. "What are we going to do? I have to go back to Lawhiney!"

"Out of the question! You simply must go before the committee or there'll be You Know Who to pay!"

"Someone else has to go then." Geegaw decided. "I don't think I was too good at the job anyway."

"NO!" Basil almost shouted. "She doesn't even know who I am! She's got no reason to trust me, let alone listen to me, and the same goes for any other guide!"

"Well, don't look at me!" Dale retorted. "She may know me after the last three months but I sure don't know her! I thought she was Gadget the whole time. Anyhow, why should I help someone who clunked me over the head the last time I saw her?"

"Ah, you can't go. You're still breathing in and out." Geegaw told him.

"Uh, I don't suppose Geegaw has a double, like Gadget does?" Dale suggested.

Basil looked at Geegaw hopefully.

"Believe it or not," Geegaw said, "people were always mistaking Monty for me. But he can't do it unless he drops dead in the next ten minutes, which he won't. I know, because I've checked his expiry date. And place. And cause. I've been looking forward to teasing him about it for years!"

"We need a plan and we need it quickly." Basil said.

"Aw, Basil, it's hopeless. We don't stand a chance." Geegaw looked ready to give up.

"There's always a chance." Basil said stubbornly. "As long as one can think."

195

Warden Phelps was in her office.

Her new temporary office.

Her normal office was going to be partially underwater for at least two days, it seemed. The administration part of the prison wasn't draining and might have to be emptied by inmate bucket chains.

So here she was, she put down her pencil and looked around sadly, in what had been a janitor's closet until mid-afternoon with the card table from the guard's break room as a desk. She normally kept regular office hours. Nine to five, those were her hours, except for the rare doctor's appointment and the occasional early departure on Fridays. It was currently one in the morning.

The damage caused by the riot and the desperate need to account for every prisoner was going to be the cause of many late nights for her, Warden Phelps suspected, and not all of them would be spent doing paperwork. Some of them would be sleepless nights spent worrying about whether she was going to be able to keep her job or not.

She couldn't believe she had felt sorry for Red the first time she had seen her. Such a confused, earnest, little bundle of confusion to hold so much trouble, she thought. Fifteen years wasn't going to be nearly long enough for that one, not after this.

The only thing Phelps hadn't decided on was whether to make sure Red spent every last minute of her sentence right here in Shrankshaw, where Phelps could make sure she was properly punished, or whether to ship her to the worst medieval dungeon in the city the moment Phelps had clean dry form in her hand.

A loud, distant crash echoed along the corridors outside her closet.

"What now?" Warden Phelps wondered irritably. "Subsidence?"

The door burst open and Deputy Warden Marion Cedar ran through it, an unwise thing to do when entering a small room that offered little stopping distance. She piled into the card table, which promptly collapsed under her weight and sent the Warden's paperwork flying.

Warden Phelps looked down at her Deputy and best friend. "What, I shudder to ask, brought this on?"

"Sorry, Gertrude. I forgot how much smaller this place was than your normal office and didn't have time to slow down."

"Never mind that, what's got you into such a state?"

"It's a breakout, at least four prisoners. They were using the heavy lifting crane to get up on to the roof and set off the warning sirens. You know that dreadful noise it makes to let everyone know it isn't safe to be in the stairwell?"

"Yes, yes, of course I know it. I've always said it would bring the humans down on us one of these days." Warden Phelps narrowed her eyes as a painful thought entered her head. She spoke in a carefully controlled voice. "Is Red…"

"One of the escapees, yes. It seems they may have overpowered Margo somehow."

"Overpowered Margo Haggs? But that's impossible, surely?" She made it sound as though it were against the laws of nature.

"She looked to have been partially shaved when I saw her bounding up the staircase after them. I came to get you at once!"

"You did well. Now get up, for heaven's sake. What someone will think if they come in and see us both on the floor with your head in my lap, I really don't want to find out."

The two rodents helped one another to their feet and began to hurry to the stairwell. As they went, Warden Phelps confided her worst fears to her friend.

"Marion, when you came in I was beginning to think that I might never be allowed back into this prison. What with a riot and an escape in the same day, I'm beginning to fear that it won't take much more for me to be unable to leave at all."

Marion looked at her as they ran. "You mean?"

"Yes, if the Board of Corrections really wants blood for this mess they may just find a way to check me in as permanent guest."

Marion looked at her friend in shock. Surely it couldn't be as bad as that?

"But you've broken no law!" she objected.

"That's a matter for a court to decide!" Warden Phelps reminded her. "Annoy the wrong people and you can find that there are an awful lot of laws and an awful lot of ways to interpret them. If anyone died in that flood I could find myself charged with mouse-slaughter because I'm responsible for the safety of the equipment in this place, for instance."

"But that was Red who did that!"

"But I'm responsible for making sure the equipment she wrecked isn't dangerous. If they don't have her to throw the book at, I'll be the next best person."

They arrived at the stairwell. A small group of guards stood at the foot of the staircase. Their more energetic colleagues were at the loading bay that Red, Bubbles and the other escapees had departed from.

"I thought you said they were trapped." Warden Phelps said, wearily.

"You there! Ms Crookshank, what's going on?"

The shrew saluted Deputy Warden Cedar. "Looks like they got clean away, Ma'am."

"The blazes they have!" A burly, hunched figure shoved Ms Crookshank to one side.

The Warden and her deputy stared in horror and amazement at Margo Haggs. Half Haggs's face had been shaved bare of fur and shaving foam stuck to her mouth like rabid foam. Worst of all was the expression of insane rage that warped and twisted her face.

"Margo?" Marion Cedar whispered, as though it could be anyone else.

"We can take the drywall staircase. It goes all the way to the roof. They've no way down from there except a flying leap and I've got a feeling one or two of them may just decide to take it once they realise I've caught up with them." Haggs snarled.

"You look like you should go to the medical wing." Warden Phelps said.

"Not until I've got them back where they belong!"

"Very commendable dedication, I'm sure, but I don't think you're in the right frame of mind - "

"I don't CARE what you or anyone else thinks! Either get out of my way or try to keep up!" Haggs barged past Warden Phelps.

Most of the other guards instinctively followed Haggs's natural leadership. The ones who didn't followed her anyway just to see what would happen.

Warden Phelps watched as her officers ran past her without sparing her so much as a glance or a nod. Silently she seethed at being ignored by the people she had every right to expect loyalty from. She knew what was best, not that beast Haggs! How was it that even the prisoners seemed to be more at home with Haggs's brand of brutality and bullying than the fairness and compassion she offered them?

As the last guard filed past them, Phelps found herself looking at the one person she knew she could rely on, her friend, Marion Cedar.

Marion looked at her. "Well, do we try to catch up or just go and find a bar that's still open?"

Warden Phelps sighed and shook her head. The bar sounded tempting but if she deserted her post now how could she face her superiors? "We try to catch up with them, of course, and hope we can get there in time to stop bloodshed!"

196

It had taken only a brief exploration of the roof to discover that there was no way down save a staircase that ran through the prison's drywall, which Bubbles swore she could hear guards climbing already. The twins were talking about slipping off somewhere to make the most of what were probably their last moments together. Sheila was sitting on the edge of the roof, looking as though she were trying to work out whether the fall would kill her.

"Where's Red?" Bubbles asked her.

"Flagpole." Sheila said despairingly.

"What?"

"She's over by the flagpole."

Bubbles turned to look and saw that Red was in fact she was a quarter of the way up the flagpole.

"Red? What ya doing, Red?" She called.

Red didn't answer.

Bubbles cursed to herself for a few minutes. Freedom had felt great for the first thirty seconds or so and her friends had danced and capered on the roof and hugged each other in celebration, but it had palled surprisingly quickly when they realised that it wouldn't last. If Red wanted to spend her last moments as a free mouse climbing a flagpole, what was to stop her?

"Red, I don't think climbing any higher is going to help. There isn't anywhere to hide up there and even if there were, there's still no way to escape except back through the prison."

Red was tugging at something that had been wedged in a bracket part of the way up the pole.

"RED, CAN YOU EVEN HEAR ME?" Bubbles yelled.

A huge bat like shape dropped out of the sky. It fell on to Bubbles without warning, covering her completely. It was a flag, the American flag.

"Sorry." Red called.

By the time Bubbles had fought her way out from under the acres of heavy material, Red was standing at the base of the flagpole, looking contrite. Bubbles was on all fours, her head poking out from under the red and white stripes.

"Oooh, someday, Red…"

"I know, I know, and the twins will probably buy tickets." Red nodded apologetically. "But first I need your help with this cord I got from the flagpole and then we have to get that aerial down from over there."

"What in creation are you thinking, Red?"

"I'm thinking we're going to fly out of here!"

197

The staircase the mice had built into the prison firewall zigzagged crazily from one wall to another. It was old and dusty and shook under the rhythm of the feet pounding up until it threatened to fall apart. Haggs lead the way at a reckless pace but even so many of the officers were getting tired and one underling at a time, Warden Phelps gained on her.

The door at the top of the stairs was better camouflaged than reinforced and it burst open so easily that Haggs barely broke stride when she reached it. Behind her the guards and Warden Phelps spilled out onto the roof without fear of being seen by man or beast.

"Where?" Snarled Haggs. Then she saw them.

A long cord had been looped round the base of the air vent. The other end of the cord stretched high into the air and darkness. At that far end flapped and billowed a kite made from the stars and stripes. Three metal struts, unmistakably an H-shaped TV aerial, held the sides of the kite rigid against the wind and the third held them a fixed distance apart.

"Impossible!" Marion Cedar gasped.

"Very fast work, certainly." The warden agreed.

Hanging from the middle strut was a loading pallet made of Popsicle sticks that the escapees had scavenged from the loading bay. The four of them were riding it like a raft in a storm tossed sea. The fifth escapee, Red, was sitting on something that hung below the raft on something that looked for all the world like a swing. Two more lines of cord hung either side of her, their ends looped to form handles. The line that tethered the kite to the roof ran directly in front of her.

Haggs began to climb the line. She swarmed up it like an old sea rat running up a mooring rope to a new berth.

"Madness. They'll all be killed." Warden Phelps breathed.

High above the roof, Gadget had been waiting for this moment. She had told the others she was waiting for the wind to change but the truth was she had been waiting for this.

"May I borrow your knife, please Bubbles?" She asked politely from her station just below the Popsicle stick raft.

Bubbles, whose eyes were tightly shut and whose mouth mumbled a ceaseless prayer for a quick and painless death, took the knife from inside her shirt and handed it over without argument.

"Thank you." Gadget said.

Haggs was just a few inches below Gadget's dangling feet when Gadget called down to her. "Oh, Ms Haggs? Remember this?"

Gadget held up the knife for all to see.

"You gave it to Bubbles and asked her to kill me!" Gadget called out hoping the wind wouldn't carry her words away. She wanted the guards below to hear her.

Haggs looked worriedly up at her. "What are you going to do?" She snarled.

"I wouldn't have it now, if it wasn't for you. I just wanted you to remember that on the way down." Gadget smiled sweetly.

Haggs silently mouthed Gadget's last words as their implications sunk in. When she was sure she had their meaning, she shook her head desperately.

Gadget reached out and delicately sawed through the cord that was the last thing keeping her in Shrankshaw. It frayed a little before it gave way and then the homemade glider lifted away from the roof, bourn by a strengthening wind.

Gadget dropped the knife and took hold of the looped cords that she had tied to either side of her seat. They were control lines leading to triangular flaps that she had cut in the flag with the same knife she had just used to cut the mooring line. She was confident she could pilot her new invention as far as she needed and perhaps a little further, since it felt so good to be in the air again.

Gadget grinned to herself with secret joy.

Haggs had howled all the way down.

198

Warden Phelps stood on the small wall that ran around the edge of the roof and watched as Haggs noisily plummeted.

The cord, which Haggs still clung to, fell across the wall next to the warden and snapped tight as Haggs reached its limit. What had become a long, vertical descent towards the ground became a short arc that ended in Haggs slapping face first into the brick wall of the human prison Shrankshaw was built under.

The Warden bent as far over the edge of the wall as she dared to get a better view and was surprised to see that Haggs's grip had not failed her. It was possible that Haggs had hit the wall with such force that she had simply stuck to it like Wile E. Coyote on a bad day. Perhaps she might yet fall away to leave a perfect Haggs shaped imprint in the side of the prison and a tiny, distant cloud of dust rising from the courtyard below.

Admittedly any imprint Haggs left in the wall would have to be discretely filled in under cover of darkness to avoid attracting human attention, Warden Phelps thought, but even so it would be a sight she didn't want to miss.

Haggs resolutely clung onto the line however, even when the rest of her body was so limp that she might well have been unconscious and the other guards began to reel her in as though they were landing a fish. Warden Phelps supposed that the way her luck was going, it had been just be too much to expect entertainment. Haggs would probably get a medal, if the board of corrections gave medals. If they didn't, they'd probably start after this.

With Haggs unavailable for comment, Phelps was the de facto leader again and in a moment people would expect her to say something. When she felt the presence of her deputy, Marion Cedar, beside her she knew that time had come. She narrowed her eyes and stared after the makeshift glider as it sailed away towards the trees of the nearby forest.

"Ms Cedar, send word down to the kennels. We shall need some dogs to ride. "

"Yes, Warden." Marion replied respectfully.

"And see that flag desecration is added to the list of charges when they are captured."

199

Chip was in a small bare interview room. A dirty, badly scratched desk was between him and a large brown rat who wore a cheap suit and shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. There was a small light above the desk and although it didn't completely drive the shadows from the corners of the room it was angled to shine directly into Chip's eyes and seemed harsh enough to him.

"So tell me about the skirt." The rat said.

"Skirt?" For a moment, Chip feared the worst. They had found Dale's "disguise box" and thought it belonged to him.

"Someone like you, model citizen, pillar of the community, got everything going for you. Then you find yourself here, on the wrong side of the desk. I've seen it before, too many times, and there's ALWAYS a girl involved." The rat jabbed a finger for emphasis.

"Oh. I get you. I know what you mean. I'm a detective too, you know. I've seen my share of leg work." Chip's mouth was running away with him.

The rat frowned. "Why are you telling me that? Are you looking for some kind of special treatment?"

"No reason, no reason." Chip insisted hastily. He knew it always rubbed his fur the wrong way when pompous blowhard tried to play for privileged treatment. "It's just more embarrassing, that's all."

"Embarrassing. That's right. But the way to make it stop being embarrassing is to get all this, the speculation, the press interest, the gossip, over with quickly and in one go. Tell me the truth. The whole thing, right here, right now. Get it all out in the open at once."

Chip looked at the detective's friendly, confidence-inspiring smile and knew it had been well rehearsed in front of a mirror. He saw the gleam of hunger behind the detective's sharp, attentive eyes and knew it was for another victory, another chance to be a champion in the cause of justice.

How often Chip's own face must have looked like that.

The rat was looking at him expectantly.

"I don't think you're going to believe the truth." Chip said feebly.

"Try me."

"I already told it to the officers at the tree house."

"That you didn't know your best friend was unconscious and in the rubbish sack and were going to drop it off the porch when they found you and stopped you." The rat read off his notebook. "You must have been very relieved when they did stop you, I would imagine."

"No. I was horrified."

"Well, now, that doesn't make much sense to me. Why would you be horrified at the presence of the watch before you found out your friend was in the bag if you didn't know he was there? Then again, why would you be horrified afterwards, when you found out he was, given that they had just saved you from making a terrible mistake?"

"I was horrified when I found out he was in the bag, because I realised immediately how bad it looked for me." Chip said.

"But it's not how it looks, right? There's an innocent explanation, or maybe someone's trying to frame you?" The rat's smile became sarcastic.

"Do you think someone was trying to frame me?" Chip shot back with barely a gap between questions.

"We'll ask the questions." The rat detective replied smoothly.

"Because it did occur to me, now that you mention it, only there aren't many people with the wherewithal to carry a thing like that off so efficiently. The only group I could think of that could achieve such a thing and that might have a motive, happens to be the City Street Watch." Chip looked at the detective to see how he took it, even as he himself cringed inwardly at how weak the theory sounded to his own ears now that he heard it out loud.

The rat didn't blink. His face was a studied mask of self-control. "Is that what you think this is, Mister Maplewood? A frame up?"

Chip tried to hold the rat's gaze but couldn't. "I considered it while I was waiting for your boys to show up at the tree house. It's a pretty neat and tidy idea but it doesn't stand up too well when you look at it in the daylight."

The rat blinked. "Is that so? Just what would be our motive, Mister Maplewood?"

"Your organisation competes with the Rescue Rangers for resources from the City Conclave. You compete with us for territory."

"Gangs compete for territory. The Street Watch certainly isn't a gang, Mister Maplewood and I didn't think the Rangers were either." The detective sounded angry though he was keeping it in check.

"You know as well as I do that if we both work the same neighbourhoods the City Conclave will decide one of our groups is redundant." Chip shot back.

"If you feel that way, just what was it that decided you against the idea?" For a moment, it almost sounded as if the rat was taking the idea seriously.

"Patroller Hazelleaf. Patrol Leader Winterstore. My gut instinct is that they're exactly what they seem, a green raw rookie and a veteran with too many responsibilities on his hands all ready to welcome a big case dropping in his lap. Besides, you'd still need someone who could get inside Ranger Headquarters, do their dirty work and get back out without being detected. I don't think you've got anyone who's up to the job."

"Oh, you don't, do you?"

"Are you going to tell me I'm wrong?" Chip angled.

The rat grimaced. "Maybe we do and maybe we don't, but I know what we haven't got and that's someone who can keep count of all the crooks and hot heads we get through here crying frame up because there's no other way they can explain away the evidence we found piled up around them."

Chip grimaced back. The rat was right and he knew it. He heard it himself time and again, to the point where that he was inclined to play the odds and treat someone crying "frame" as guilty until proven innocent. "Well, like I said, the idea doesn't stand up in the daylight but you can see why you got a rise out of me when you asked if I thought I was being framed."

"Yeah, sure pal. I understand. Now since we understand each other, how about you tell me about the skirt."

Chip sighed. The rat was just letting Chip know that he wouldn't let interview be sidetracked. He tried to assert himself. "There's no skirt, dame, broad or floozy mixed up in anything, is that clear?"

"No? Then tell me what did happen."

"I already told the detectives back at Headquarters."

"This is Headquarters!"

"No, OUR Headquarters."

"Oh yeah, your little clubhouse. What's the matter, Maplewood, no girls allowed in your gang? Is it boys only?"

"You know perfectly well that Gadget Hackwrench is a vital member of our team and that she happens to be of the female persuasion."

"That's right, I do know, but you're in no hurry to tell me about her, are you? You know what I think, Maplewood, I think the gossip about Miss Hackwrench and a possible Ranger romance was a little more than gossip and the romance was a little more than possible. I think you and Mister Oakmont fought over her and things went too far.

"You thought you'd killed him. Maybe you meant to and maybe you didn't, but that didn't matter because you had a reputation to protect. You were going to dispose of him in the trash and leave town for a few days, see what happened. Maybe come back and claim he went with you but took off on his own to some other place on a whim. Only you didn't count on a Sweeper Patrols turning up at the last moment to bring the whole thing crashing down around your ears."

"The only thing crashing down around anyone's ears is your career if you take that before a judge!" Chip yelled.

"The only thing keeping you out of a cell right now is that there's one thing I want to know right now. When you've told me, you can call your cronies and connections and see there's someone with the juice to get you out of this who still wants to know you."

"Well, what is it?" Chip demanded.

"Where's Gadget Hackwrench right now?" The rat yelled at him.

Chip sat there stunned. His mouth went dry. "You can't be serious."

"I'm deadly serious." The rat said quietly. "We know she's not in residence at the tree house, that she told Monterey Jack she was staying the night at a friend's place only she never showed up there. We've got people ready to search the trash bin but maybe you'd like to save us the time and tell us where to find her."

Chip stared quietly. He hadn't thought that Gadget could be in danger. Why, when his best friend had been attacked but some unknown force, had it not occurred to him that the rest of the team, especially Gadget, might be in danger? Somehow, Chip stirred himself out his state of shock. He had to phrase his next question carefully, or he'd lose this detective totally and that could be fatal for Gadget.

"Detective, I know you have a working theory that explains most if not all the evidence you have so far but I'm asking you to set that theory to one side for a moment and consider another one, however briefly. What if someone kidnapped Gadget, and Dale wasn't the target of whatever happened, but simply got in the way and had to be disposed of? Isn't it possible that the kidnappers took Gadget and left Dale concealed in the trash bag simply because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time? That Gadget could be out there somewhere desperately hoping for rescue?"

The rat threw a pile of notes down on the desk. "First it's an intruder who vanishes into thin air, then it's a frame up, now it's a kidnap, any story at all but the one I hear every day of the week, which is about a guy who attacked their best friend over a girl."

"Dangit! You know Gadget's been kidnapped before!"

"I know she was kidnapped twice in as many months, if you count hijacking, but the hijackers are missing presumed eaten and the kidnapper at the hospital is in our custody and swears he was working alone!"

"The hijackers weren't eaten by cats! The grey mouse who attacked Gadget at the hospital was one of them and he's lying about working alone. Monty and Dale chased two other people to a light aircraft on the roof of the building where they made their escape."

"Well, we'll just have to take Monty's word for that, seeing as Dale can't talk for himself any more, won't we?"

"Are you calling him a liar?" Chip banged his fist on the desk.

"Maybe. What makes you so sure the hospital business was linked to the hijack? Why should they come after Gadget again at the hospital?"

"Maybe because she could identify them or maybe it was revenge. It doesn't matter either way, it had to be them because there was no other motive for trying to snatch Gadget away from us just long enough to strangle her in a lift."

"Did she identify them?"

"She couldn't, the doctors say she has amnesia brought on by the stress of the crash! It wasn't made public so there's no way the hijackers could have known that!"

"And now one of the surviving two hijackers is back, kidnapping Gadget and silencing Dale? Is that what you're selling me?" The rat had his paws down on the desk and was leaning across into Chip's face. Chip could smell the detective's lunch on his breath but held his ground manfully.

"It's a theory, at least as good as the one you're trying to convict me on, and if you can't disprove it you might end up looking mighty silly in front of a judge and jury, don't you think?" Chip put it to him.

The rat sat back. "There's a flaw in your theory. If they only wanted to silence Gadget, why take her with them? Why not give her the same treatment as Dale right there and then?"

Chip blinked as he thought it over. He was used to working under pressure but this was unlike anything he had ever known before. "I guess you're right. Well, that pretty much shoots my theory down in flames. I wish I could think of a way to return the favour."

The rat laughed, hollowly. "I bet you do. Now is that it, or are you going to tell me she's been beamed up by space aliens next?"

"I'm sorry but I don't know where Gadget is if she's not at Jen's place and I didn't hurt Dale. Not this time at any rate."

"Then you admit to hurting him some other time?"

"We've been friends a long time. We've had our share of fights, verbal and otherwise." Chip replied carefully. "You'd find that out from plenty of people before long so I might as well tell you."

"What else am I going to hear?" The rat was making notes.

"That Dale and I were both sweet on Gadget and that she either wasn't interested or perhaps just couldn't make up her mind which one of us she liked best." Chip knew this was risky, that he was giving the detective bricks to build the case against him but he needed to buy some credibility and, as he had said, it was all information the detective was bound to hear sooner or later.

"Am I going to hear that you've got a temper?"

"Probably." Chip said after a hesitation.

"A violent one?"

"I work in a violent profession, Detective. We both do."

"There's a difference between controlling the violence and the violence controlling you." The rat looked at him with penetrating eyes.

"I'm not out of control. I never have been." Chip hoped no one would say any different. "Dale always gave as good as he got, as far as I'm concerned."

"What about Gadget, were you violent with her?"

"NO!"

The rat looked at him. "Are you sure?"

"I never harmed a hair on her head. You can ask Monty or Zipper if you don't believe me."

"For all you know, I already have." The rat reminded him. "Are you still saying you didn't put Dale in that trash bag?"

"I didn't put Dale in the trash bag." Chip duly repeated.

"Who else was in the tree this evening?"

At last, the first glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel, Chip thought triumphantly. He's considering the other angles. "Monterey Jack, Zipper, Gadget and myself."

"No visitors?"

"None that I know of." Chip answered. "I didn't hear the doorbell or anyone knock at the door all evening."

"So, next obvious question, who was the last one to see Mister Oakmont?" The detective had closed his notebook. His expression was more open now, as though he was interviewing a witness not a suspect.

Chip swallowed and looked all round the room, anywhere but the detective's face.

"Mister Maplewood?"

Chip took a deep breath. "I was."

"Why do I get the impression that this is something you didn't mention to the detectives back at the headquarters?"

"Because I would have to be insane to mention this while under suspicion of attempting to murder Dale." Chip replied, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling.

"You know that if I think you're holding out on me, even for a moment, I'll take you before a judge with what I've got and I think I can get a conviction with it. No matter what theories you trot out for the jury." The rat warned him.

Chip felt the tears well up in his eyes again. He didn't want to lose it again. Not here, not in front of this rat who was proving himself so evenly matched with Chip. He forced himself to speak in level voice.

"I walked in on Gadget and Dale. I guess you could say that Gadget had made up her mind which one of us she liked. I was broken hearted."

"What did you do?" The detective asked gently.

"I closed the door and ran to my study. I… cried." Chip couldn't look at the rat now. Admitting to this was as painful as experiencing it had been.

"You were angry. You wanted revenge."

"It might not be what you want to hear, Detective, but it's the truth. I closed the door and I shut myself away and they were both fine."

"And that's the last time you saw the both of them?"

"No. Gadget came to my study about fifteen minutes later. She was looking for something."

"What?"

"Something she could use as a lens in something she was working on. She borrowed a diamond ring I had bought some months earlier. I had meant to propose to her but I couldn't get up the nerve to even ask her out."

"A diamond ring? To use as a lens?"

"If you knew Gadget, you'd understand. It was in character for her."

"Did you argue? Something she said set you off, perhaps?"

"She… thought the ring was for another one of my admirers. Seemed totally oblivious to my feelings. I went numb and then she left and stayed there for a while, in the dark."

"You didn't become angry with her at any point? You've admitted having a temper, remember."

"I was still in shock. I didn't do anything. I didn't get out of my chair, even, and if you think otherwise you might want to remember that Monty saw her and spoke to her afterwards."

"This was before the conversation with Monty?" The rat was consulting his notes.

"Yes."

"When he was searching the tree for Dale and couldn't find him, but found Gadget instead."

"That's right. She asked him to take out the trash from her workshop. Then later, when I had decided it would be best if I left, I met Monty in the hallway and he said he was feeling tired and asked me to do it."

"Even after what you had been through that evening?"

"I didn't tell him."

"Why not? I mean he's your friend isn't he?"

"I didn't want to make a fuss about it. I didn't want anyone to see how bad I was feeling. I thought they'd think less of me. I went back to Gadget's workshop and did what Monty had asked of me. I was just trying to decide whether to drag the sack down the steps or push it off the porch when your patrol happened on me."

"Was Dale in the workshop?"

"In the sack, though I didn't know it at the time."

"And Gadget?"

"Had already left."

The rat sat in silence for a minute or so before speaking again. "Do you love Gadget, Chip?"

Chip was slow to answer. "I… might have, only she chose Dale. That's her choice and… I have to respect that."

"Even if you don't understand it?"

Chip almost laughed and shook his head. "I certainly don't understand it but I'm not going to fight it."

"Except love isn't something you can turn on and off like a tap, it's not controlled so easily."

"That's why I was leaving when your patrol found me. I don't want to be in love with my best friend's girl."

The rat nodded understanding, his eyes wide and fascinated. "Mister Maplewood, can you think of any other explanation for what happened that we haven't already addressed here?"

"No."

"See if you can think of one… I'm going out to test a theory."

200

The paraglider went where the wind blew it. Gadget could imagine it taking them far out across the sea to strange lands, never to be seen again. This was wonderful, like her first flight, or the first time she had built something useful that worked, or her first schoolgirl crush.

Her first taste of freedom; she would appreciate it from now on.

She thought of her father and wondered if he had felt as free as she felt now on the last flight he had made. Rain began to fall. It hid her tears.

It also began to soak the flag that served as the wing of her paraglider. Gadget knew she would have to put down before it turned into a damp rag. They were over a forest Gadget had never seen before. She hoped for a clearing but could see nothing. Behind her she was suddenly aware of the moans and cries from the passengers above her.

Just as the glider began to sag and grow clumsy when she tugged on the control lines, Gadget saw a gaping hole in the dark forest canopy where a large tree had fallen. She made for it like a battered sailor trying to reach port before the storm hit, pulling hard on one control line in a hope that a spiral would give them the lowest speed when they hit.

Twigs and branches reached up for them like fingers and arms. Gadget felt her makeshift seat threaten to give way and pulled harder on both control lines trying to break their descent. The ground came up fast and she realised at the last moment that she had built the paraglider with the passenger section right over the pilot's seat, with nothing except string between her head and passengers above her. When the glider touched down, it was almost certain the wooden pallet and the weight of four people would come down on her head.

Gadget considered jumping for safety but feared the paraglider would rise into the air again with nobody to control it. She would just have to take her chances. Her luck had been cruel to her lately, so she expected little in the way of miracles.

Just as the ground came up to crush her, the seat jerked madly and she was almost thrown from the glider. She found herself bouncing so hard that her head connected with the underside of the Popsicle stick pallet her friends were riding on and she saw stars.

The flag had snagged on a branch and was tearing even as Gadget shook her head. The other convicts were screaming.

Somewhere above, lightening flashed. The rain became a deluge.

"WE'RE GOING TO DIE! WE'RE GOING TO DIE!" Bubbles wailed.

"We're two feet off the ground! Will be quiet already?" Gadget yelled up at them.

"IT'S A MIRACLE! WE'RE NOT GOING TO DIE! WE'RE NOT GOING TO DIE!"

Gadget shook her head. "Nope, we're going straight back to Shrankshaw when every critter that lives in this forest hears the fuss you're making."

"Ah-ha. Sorry." Bubbles said.

"Oh, mother. I promise I'll be good." Sheila leaned over the side of the pallet and was noisily sick.

"Hey, cut that out!" Gadget yelled back.

"Hey, how do we get down?" The twins chorused.

"It's two feet and there's a puddle down there. You've probably jumped off higher diving boards as a kid." Gadget called up. "Or we could just climb down the cords now that we don't need them any more."

"Okay. Coming down." Bubbles called back. Before Gadget could react, Bubbles went down one of the control lines like a fireman sliding down a pole.

The was a faint splash followed by a sloshing sound as Bubbles made her way to the edge of the puddle.

"What's it like down there?" Gadget called.

"Well, even if someone did hear me, I don't think we're going to be taken back to Shrankshaw." Bubbles replied as Gadget climbed down the same way she had.

"Why not?"

"Because we are going to be devoured by the local predators before any posse can find us." Bubbles said staring at the dark and forbidding woods that surrounded them. The rain had begun to fall in earnest now, drops of water pounding down around them like small fists.

"I can see your point." Gadget admitted, standing beside her. The forest looked like a big, dark, scary place for a few small mice to get lost in.

Behind Gadget and Bubbles the other escapees were climbing down from the wrecked paraglider. Gadget assumed her best lecture mode and tried to reassure them.

"It's not as bad as it looks. Most predators don't hunt in the rain and any local people will have warm dry burrows to keep them out of the rain and away from us. While we were in the air I was able to get the lay of the land. The prison is southeast of the forest and the city is about ten miles north." She turned and pointed in what she hoped was the right direction. "Moss always grows on the north side of trees, so we won't get lost."

"Which way to the docks, Gadget?" Bubbles asked casually.

"They're on the east side of the city, I'd say about seven miles northeast." Gadget turned back.

Everyone was looking at her with flat, neutral expressions. Once upon a time, she wouldn't have noticed a detail like that.

"What's up guys?"

"Get her." Bubbles said.

"WHOA!" Gadget turned and managed to get a couple of steps before her "friends" tackled her. She found herself face down in the mud with someone sitting on her back.

"Get her legs!" Sheila snarled.

"Got them already!" a twin yelled back.

"Aw, come on guys! I got us out of there!" Gadget wailed. "Bubbles, I'm sorry about the flag falling on you! I'LL BE GOOD!"

Bubbles stood over Gadget. She reached down and took Gadget's face in her paw with surprising gentleness. "You're worried I'm going to give the twins that show they asked for when we got them out of solitary? I might at that."

"I'll be a good mouse!" Gadget promised worriedly. "The best mouse!"

"That's the problem, Red." Bubbles said sadly. "You're already are a good mouse. The best mouse; you're Gadget Hackwrench."

Gadget's eyes went wide.

"You called me by my name." She remembered.

"And you answered." Bubbles shook her head sorrowfully.

Gadget felt the first stirrings of fear over take her alarm.

"But - but, I've been telling you for weeks who I am! It's never made any difference to you. Bubbles, you're my friend."

Bubbles looked at her. It was dark but for a moment Gadget thought she could see tears in her eyes. "No, I was Red's friend."

"Bubbles, please, I never lied to you about anything! I am who I am, whatever name you call me."

"And I can think of quiet a few…" Sheila smiled as she twisted Gadget's arm.

Gadget cried out.

"Stop it, Sheila." Bubbles said quietly.

Gadget could feel an intense glare being exchanged somewhere over her head. Sheila must have looked away first because the next thing she knew her arm was free. She beat her fist in the soft, cold mud in frustration.

"Darn it, I broke the law and all of you out of prison. If I'm not one of you now I don't know what I am!"

"You're a Rescue Ranger." Bubbles reminded her quietly.

Gadget met her eyes and saw a certainty in them that she envied. "Maybe you all had your eyes shut back there but I may have dropped Haggs to her death."

"I saw." Sheila smiled. "But I'm sure the judge will let you off with a stern telling off before asking for your autograph."

"Darn it! I'm no celebrity! I just try to help people who are in trouble, that's all! If anything, the judge will say what I did is even worse because I'm supposed to be one of the good guys! I'll be disgraced and sent back to Shrankshaw and everyone will know I really am Gadget! It'll all start over for double and I JUST CAN'T FACE THAT!"

There was silence for a moment. Then Bubbles said: "Let her up."

"What?" Sheila demanded.

"Do it."

"Oh, thank heavens." Gadget said as the weight on her back disappeared. She struggled to her feet. "For a moment there, I really thought you were going to do something horrible - "

Bubbles threw herself at Gadget and they both went sprawling in the mud.

Gadget choked as some of the mud got in her mouth. She spat it out. Bubbles had a hold on her collar as though trying to strangle her. Instead Bubbles was shaking Gadget as though trying to beat her brains out against a rock. There was no rock, only mud, and every time Gadget's head hit there was a splashing sound.

Using one of Monty's old tricks, Gadget broke Bubbles grip and captured her wrists. She spread her legs to get as much leverage as possible and pushed until their positions were reversed.

"Ha! Rescue Rangers get self-defence training!" She crowed.

"I bet it doesn't include fighting dirty!" Bubbles growled. She pulled her legs up, planted her feet against Gadget's chest and pushed with her full strength.

Gadget flew backwards and landed in the puddle. She rose, muddy, soaked and furious. "Why are you doing this?"

"If you have to ask, you'll never understand." Bubbles told her.

Gadget fought her way out of the puddle and into the mud that surrounded it. She was up to her knees and having difficulty moving when Bubbles seemed to become impatient with waiting for her and began to wade in to meet Gadget halfway.

Gadget saw her coming and for a moment they circled each other like wrestlers, looking for an opportunity to strike.

"If you want a fight, I can give you one. You've seen what I can do!" Gadget threatened.

"Honey, that only means you've shown me your best moves. Mine are all surprises!" Bubbles scooped up a handful of mud and threw it in Gadget's face.

Gadget's hands flew to her blinded eyes trying to wipe away the mud before Bubbles could press her advantage. She was too slow. Bubbles pulled at her hair and Gadget had to fight to keep her balance. Still blind, Gadget pulled free and tried to take a step back, only to find her foot was stuck. She lost her balance and sat down awkwardly in the mud with a squeak.

Gadget's paws reached to her face and parted her wet muddy hair from her face like a pair of theatre curtains. Her cornflower blue eyes blazed like sapphires and her nose was crinkled with fury.

Bubbles struggled forward, her own feet deep in the mud. She reached out as if to help Gadget to stand but intending to grapple with her.

Gadget grabbed the offered hands and pulled as hard as she could. Bubbles suddenly found herself face down in the mud, her head somewhere between Gadget's knees. Gadget crossed her legs over Bubbles' arms and lifted Bubbles' wrists as her own legs pushed Bubbles' elbows downwards. It was a wrestling hold she had seen while watching television with Dale.

Bubbles found she was being forced to push her own face deep into the mud in an effort to lower her shoulders and take the pressure off her straining elbows. She was blind and could not breathe. If Red, or Gadget, kept her like this she might drown or suffocate. Her legs were free but if she stood the pain in her elbows would be magnified many times.

Gadget found a smile creeping onto her face. Since she had met Bubbles the tough, streetwise brunette had been in charge. Now the tables would be turned.

Bubbles became desperate to breathe. She began kicking her legs, trying to scramble forward while keeping her shoulders down. She managed to surprise Gadget and got her head and shoulders under Gadget's legs, breaking the hold.

Gadget tried to regain the hold by lying flat on her back but it was too late. Bubbles rose from the mud, her face unrecognisable. Gadget's legs were about her shoulders like a yoke. Instead of trying to shake them off, Bubbles kept lifting them until Gadget's bottom and the lower half of her back were out of the mud and her head and shoulders were lowering into the mud.

Gadget's eyes darted from one side to the other. She wondered how deep the mud was and whether her head could be totally submerged in it. If she let go of Bubbles' hands now, Bubbles would be able to grab her ankles and bend her double.

Bubbles watched with noticeable glee as the mud began to creep across Gadget's face, moving towards her wide, frightened eyes and down-turned mouth.

Then Gadget had an inspiration. She let go of Bubbles' right arm and dropped her right leg from Bubbles' shoulders. Then Gadget rolled to the right, pulling Bubbles' arms and pushing with the leg that was still on Bubbles' shoulder. The brunette mouse suddenly found herself face down in the mud again, this time with the calf of Gadget's left leg across the back of her neck. Her left arm was being pulled by one of Gadget's paws, while a forearm crossed the back of Bubbles' elbow and tried to make it bend the wrong way.

Gadget's hold was easily broken though. Bubbles shuffled the lower half of her body towards Gadget until the angle was wrong for Gadget to keep her leg on the back of Bubbles' neck.

Gadget responded by putting that leg on the back of the arm she was holding in a lock and keeping Bubbles down that way.

The lock seemed unbreakable until Bubbles' wrist, made slippery by the mud, escaped Gadget's paws and Bubbles flipped over onto her back, gasping.

Sensing that she might not be so lucky a second time, Gadget stood and struck out for firmer ground. She hadn't got very far when Bubbles sat up with squelching sound and grabbed her tail.

"EEK!" Gadget squeaked in dismay, her paws going to the base of her tail.

Bubbles stood up.

"Go Bubbles!" Yelled a twin.

"Come on Red! Show her what you're made of!" The second one cheered.

"Yeah! Don't make it too easy! We could watch this all night!" The first one agreed.

Gadget and Bubbles stared; their horrified faces a picture fit to be hung on a wall.

"Aw, don't stop now!" Sheila called out. "You were going great!"

Gadget and Bubbles looked at each other. Both felt the cold rush of sanity returning even as they felt the rising blush of mutual embarrassment. Gadget's eyes slowly went to her tail and the hand Bubbles still had clasped around it.

"Uh, Bubbles? Is this going to end up with me over your knee?" Gadget asked in a weak, embarrassed voice.

Bubbles only answer was to drop Gadget's tail as though it had suddenly turned red hot. "Ah-ha. This isn't what it looks like. We were just fighting, that's all!"

"Oh, golly yes! Just fighting." Gadget agreed.

"Mud-wrestling." Laughed Sheila. "I can't believe it. You two should see yourselves!"

The twins, a little disappointed the fight was over, began laughing too. Before long Gadget was holding her sides while Bubbles sat in the mud pointing at her and giggling.

Finally the laughter died down, though, and the small group was left in silence. Gadget's smile faded and she remembered that she had almost lost something important here. She was determined not to risk it happening again.

"Bubbles, I'm the same person I've always been. I'm still Red, it's just that I'm ALSO Gadget Hackwrench. Why does that have to make a difference?"

Bubbles shook her head sadly. "It makes a difference because you can't come with us, Red."

"What? But, darn it, I'm one of you!" Gadget was appalled. Fight or no fight their friendship, it seemed, was over.

"Of course she is!" One of the twins said.

"She fought Haggs, didn't she?" The other agreed.

"Gadget Hackwrench isn't a crook." Bubbles repeated stubbornly. "Red may have broken a few rules to get out of a jam, but so would almost anyone else. Even Gadget Hackwrench." She grinned briefly. "The catch is Gadget Hackwrench has never been in jail, at least, not as far as the law is concerned. So there's no way she could have broken out of it and she's got no reason to be running from the law."

Gadget's jaw dropped. She hadn't thought of that.

"Gadget Hackwrench has got a life right here in this city with friends and a job to do and there's no reason for her to give any of that up. For the rest of us, it's a different story. I'll probably never see my kids again, or my loot for that matter, but if we stay we might find ourselves in a hole so deep that we'll never see the sun again. We have to go. You don't. End of discussion."

Gadget looked at her feet. She could feel tears welling up. "So that's it? You know, this could be the end of a beautiful friendship."

"Ah, don't say that, Red." Bubbles said, lifting Gadget's chin off her chest. "You never know what tomorrow might bring." She paused, considering this. "Except in this case, where we can be pretty sure it will bring a heavily armed search party and tracking dogs intent on hunting down every last one of us."

Gadget blinked. "My scent. What will happen when they get my scent?"

"You should be fine if you get out of the forest before this storm blows itself out." Bubbles reassured her. "The rain should destroy any scent trails we leave. I grew up on a farm, remember, so I know about tracking dogs."

"What about you? Were will you go?" Gadget asked worriedly.

"Not saying!" Sheila declared firmly.

"She's got a point, Red." One of the twins pointed out.

"Yeah, we've got every intention of going back to our old ways as soon as we're out of here, so it's reasonable to assume you're going to do the same!" The other twin poked Gadget in her mud caked chest.

"Golly, I guess you're right." Gadget said unhappily. "So this is goodbye? I only get to see you in the crime reports?"

"Don't count on it!" Bubbles winked at her as the others began to walk away. "I don't plan on getting caught so easily next time!"

Gadget looked at her friend and saw she meant it. A horrible fear for Bubbles seized her and she threw her arms around her friend in a sudden, unexpected hug.

Bubbles hugged back, unembarrassed.

Somewhere, someone cleared a throat. By unspoken agreement the others began to make their way quietly away from the crashed paraglider and the hugging friends.

Gadget was crying when she let go of Bubbles.

"Goodbye." She whispered.

Bubbles seemed awkward and self-conscious. "Yeah, I guess. So long, Red, and tell Gadget Hackwrench hello and goodbye for me." She began to walk away, looking back at Gadget and nursing her arm a little where Gadget had strained it. Bubbles didn't properly take her eyes off Gadget until she was halfway into the darkness.

Gadget couldn't just let her go. Asides from anything else, there was still something she had to know. "Bubbles?" She called after her. "You said I wouldn't understand why you were attacking me if I had to ask. Will you at least tell me, so I can remember it and until someday when I do understand?"

Bubbles waved back at her. "I wasn't mad at you being Gadget Hackwrench. I was mad at you for making me LIKE someone like Gadget Hackwrench. You're a bad influence on me!"

Gadget, even with tears spilling down her face, laughed.

Then she lost sight of Bubbles in the darkness and the rain.

"Lord, I'm never going to see her again." Gadget said to herself as she made her way in the opposite direction. "And that's my best case scenario."


	29. The Final Equation

_**Disclaimer**_

In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone… except a certain kind of lawyer.

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

**The Final Equation**

201

Gadget scrambled through the darkness and wet of the forest night, hoping she could strike one of the clear, straight yet carefully unmade roads that animal communities used in places like this. Overhead, thunder rolled. Gadget hadn't seen the lightening. The cloud cover and forest canopy made what light there was murky and untrustworthy to see by. Huge shadows leered and reached for her before dissolving into twisted branches and crooked trees.

The rain began to beat down but did nothing to wash the thick clinging mud off Gadget's clothes or out of her hair and seemed to just make it stickier. She began to notice the cold and to shiver uncontrollably. It seemed she had been walking for hours when she heard the unmistakable distant baying of a dog.

It seemed unlikely a normal dog would be hunting in this weather. A creature needed a brain, Gadget reflected, to do something as stupid as coming out in a storm like this. A brain and a good reason, she chided herself. It would have been rational of her to hope the dog would go after the others but Gadget couldn't bring herself to wish for that.

Her legs began to tire. It suddenly occurred to her that she had already had a busy night and that finding her way out of the forest could be an adventure in itself. The forest was large by human standards and unimaginably vast by those of mice. Should she become lost in it, Gadget knew she might well never see civilization again.

There were tales – not just tales but proven cases – of whole tribes and cultures of sapient animals that arose, dwelled and then fell into ruin and decay, all without ever laying eyes on a human being, sheltered in un-travelled and overgrown places that were surprisingly close to civilization. It had happened just last year, Gadget remembered. An abandoned trio of Aztec style pyramids had been found on an island in a lake just outside the state capital. The structures bore markings and writings that were unmistakably made by small thinking animals, probably geckos, and seemed to suggest that the inhabitants of the pyramids had lived there since the American civil war, happily under the impression they were the lords of creation.

The dog bayed again. It was closer this time. Gadget knew that the first barking she had heard must have been when the dog discovered the crash site. That the second was closer to her when she knew the others had set off in the other direction meant that it was following her scent trail and not the others.

She could have cried. Her luck was holding bad after all.

Gadget knew the sound of a dog barking could carry about ten miles in the clear on a quiet night and about three in a quiet built up area. She estimated she had travelled about two miles as the crow flies since leaving the crash site perhaps a couple of hours earlier.

The rain was relentless. The only parts of her that wasn't chilled to the bone were her legs, which felt like they were on fire.

Gadget had a pretty good idea of what her body could do. Since the previous morning she had spent half a night in tears, fought off a mob of inmates, seen one if not two ghosts, escaped from a solitary confinement cell, broken out of jail, fought Margo Haggs twice, built and crashed a new kind of aircraft and mud-wrestled her best friend. Her life as a Rescue Ranger meant she was no stranger to strenuous physical activity but by any reckoning she was already close to a complete collapse.

Shake off the dog first and rest later, Gadget told herself.

She came to a narrow stream that was beginning to swell with the rain. Though a human could have crossed it in one stride, it posed a serious challenge to a mouse.

Gadget ran along the bank until she came to a thorn bush. She ducked the knife-like thorns and squeezed under the bush in the hope it would give any dog following her difficulty. Rather than come out the other side, Gadget found a long thorny vine that bridged the stream. Too narrow to walk across and far too painful to climb across, Gadget reached up and put her paws between the thorns in the hope it would be her safety line to the other side of the stream.

The water was icy and fast flowing. She shivered as it crept further up her body with every step she took. At least it will wash the mud off, she told herself. The cold was painfully sharp and she had trouble keeping her footing against the smooth stones on the streambed.

Paw over paw, step by step, Gadget crossed the stream without slipping. The water had reached her middle and she came out clean from the waist down. The bank on the other side of the stream turned out to be muddy and by the time she had struggled up it her legs were covered in what felt like clay. It made her legs seem heavy but the eternal optimist in Gadget thought that not even a commando could have created better camouflage. She was now covered from head to foot in two different colours of mud, with crumbled leaves, pine needles and dirt stuck to her in patches.

She struggled on for what seemed another hour, the rain getting heavier with every minute. The dogs no longer barked or howled behind her. Perhaps the rain was so bad that the search had been called off. Cause for hope? But hope for what?

Bubbles and the others would get away, Gadget was sure of that. She wasn't trying to get away however, she was planning to head directly into the city where the Street Watch would be watching every corner and a thousand curious eyes to notice and report her everywhere she went.

Could she reach Ranger Headquarters without being seen? She knew it was impossible. Could she reach home without being re-captured? She could only hope.

Gadget stumbled up a steep slope to the edge of a small clearing and surveyed her surroundings.

This wasn't right. There was moss on all sides of the trees. The same stream she had crossed earlier, even more swollen now and threatening to break its banks, lay a few feet away. The trees were so dense that all sides of their trunks were sheltered, allowing moss to grow thickly on all sides. Gadget had doubled back on herself and gotten lost.

Gadget felt like a favourite invention had fallen apart on its first test run. She said the word she usually said when such a thing happened and there was no one around to hear her. She beat a fist against the moss of the nearest tree. It was soft and relatively dry, which gave Gadget an idea.

She dug her claws into the moss and tore at it until it came away in a great sheet as long as her own body and wide enough to pull around her like a cloak. She shivered under it for a minute as she considered her next move.

Gadget was achingly tired and would only get more tired if she ran around willy-nilly without knowing where she was going. If, on the other hand, she stayed where she was then she would be caught by the search party and very likely hauled back to Shrankshaw for the worst they could throw at her.

She took an autumn leaf that had not yet fallen from a low hanging branch and made a small hole just below the tip. She pulled the leaf about her head like a hood and poked the stalk of the leaf through the hole to keep it in place.

Staying was out of the question. Leaving could well kill her with exhaustion, given how hard she had worked her body in the last twenty-four hours.

"I need help." She said quietly. "I need someone to show me a way out of the darkness."

The forest was full of noises in the night and the storm. Gadget felt as though the trees had eyes and were watching her, waiting for her next move. She needed help but calling the names of Monty, Chip, Dale, or even Zipper into the darkness would not make them magically appear. But there was someone, she suspected, who might.

"Professor? Professor Ratigan? Are you there?"

Nothing.

"Professor Ratigan! I want to speak to you. I need your help!" Gadget shouted it to the treetops, taking the chance that the search party or forest animals might hear her.

For a moment there was nothing. Then –

"Ah-HA!" Ratigan shouted his glee, throwing a billowing cloak lined with red silk about him as though he were pretending to be Dracula. "My very, very dear Ms. Hackwrench. I had feared we might never talk again."

"You wanted me to escape from prison all along, didn't you?" Gadget accused.

Ratigan waved a hand airily as if this were nothing. "Naturally. Who could stand to see such a beautiful and talented mousemaid wasting away in some medieval dungeon over some SILLY notion of justice that plainly isn't justice."

"I've broken my oath to uphold the law." Gadget said as if noticing for the first time.

"Think no more on that childish promise, young lady. Ask yourself: Had your oath not served its purpose? Is it not more important to uphold true justice than an unjust law?"

"Yes." Gadget answered quietly.

She hoped that Chip would agree. He could be so stern and rigid sometimes. Gadget's old nightmare rose up in her mind's eye like a spectre from a violated tomb. She saw herself opening the tree-house door and being greeted by her joyful friends, telling them her story to their horror and pity and Chip then, woefully because it was the last thing he wanted to do, bringing out his handcuffs and leading to back to the nearest Street Watch headquarters because it was the lawful, right thing to do with an escaped fugitive.

Gadget wanted someone to reassure her that it wouldn't end like that. She sensed that Ratigan was, in every sense, the wrong person to voice her fears to but there was no one else.

"Something… on your mind?" Ratigan smiled his sweetest smile, which succeeded in making him look like a used car salesman.

"If I go back home… as an escaped convict, then the others may have no choice but to hand me back to the courts for due process." Gadget said hesitantly. She was certain she was doing the wrong thing but so long as only she could see could see Ratigan he could tell no one, so what harm could it do.

"A terrible dilemma for them and you both." Ratigan sympathised.

"Since I cannot even find my way out of this forest, it seems unlikely to arise, but it has troubled me since the possibility of escape first occurred to me. Shortly before your first visit, in fact."

Ratigan looked surprised. "So all your noble talk of the law and oaths was merely an attempt to salvage a little pride." He chuckled a little. "Confess, my dear. You had already ruled out the only alternatives to staying in prison. You were merely putting the best possible spin on it."

Gadget tuned narrowed eyes on him. She wondered if he could see her face under the shadows of the leaf bonnet she had made for herself. "I didn't think of it like that."

"I'm sure you didn't. Few of us do subject our moral choices to such a clear eye, except perhaps when we look back on them from a great distance." For a moment, Ratigan's eyes looked haunted, as though his mouth had taken him to a place he didn't wish to go.

Gadget stared at him. Of course, she was not alone in making moral choices. She had forgotten that everyone who had ever lived faced the same choice between right and wrong, their own moments of pain and doubt. Chip, Monty, her father, even the odious Ratigan before her must once had been an innocent trying to decide between two paths, and perhaps she alone had been uniquely blessed in that life had waited so long to pose the challenge. She was, after all, well prepared for it.

"Professor, I have to know. Given your no doubt extensive experience in the field of, uh, ethics I suppose you would call it, how would you assess my choices so far?"

Ratigan looked at her as though suspecting mockery. "I'm flattered that you ask."

"Seriously."

Ratigan seemed to shrug to himself. "Since you insist, I found most of your decisions foolish, childish and naïve.

"By your own admission you were the victim of extraordinary circumstances and injustice, yet you refused to take extraordinary measures to extricate yourself, insisting on hanging on to a view of the world that didn't fit the very changed world you found yourself in. That was foolish.

"You set an unrealistically high moral expectation of the world, those around you, and yourself and refused to adjust it, even in the face of overwhelming evidence. Rather, you committed yourself to it even further, investing more of your mind, body and heart in it than you could afford to lose. That was childish.

"Finally, when you were forced to compromise your ethics, you assumed those around you had never faced their own moments of pain and doubt and therefore would be unable to forgive or understand you, even when many of them care deeply about you, have their fates bound to yours to one extent or another, and have much to lose by condemning you. That was naïve." Ratigan finished counting off the points on his fingers.

Gadget was rocked back. She didn't know why but she had assumed a creature like Ratigan would, either with venom or flattery, give her more credit. What she had heard sounded painfully like a true and accurate assessment of the work of a novice, given by an expert.

After a pause, she said: "I see."

"Well, you did ask." Ratigan reminded her, cagily.

"I did." Gadget allowed. "What do you think I should do next?"

"Go back to the Rangers. Tell them or don't tell them. If you do tell them, they have too much to lose by making anything public, so they'll keep it secret, but whatever you do, don't try to get the matter straightened out in court. The courts and the people who pay for them have too much to lose by dragging this into the light of day. They'd destroy you and the Rangers rather than have this opened to the public."

"Surely once it was in the papers –"

"Newspaper owners and editors have friends too. Business friends who need their support and who give support in return. Besides, newspapers print what reporters hear and the people who your misfortunes will reflect badly on can arrange for them to hear a great deal about you and the rangers, some of it true and some of it not. Oh, the mud that DREADFUL impostor threw at you hasn't completely washed off yet. I'm afraid it will all be raked over again." Ratigan looked at her sorrowfully.

Gadget looked at him. His view of the world seemed bleak and cold and terribly, terribly right. She looked away again but the world seemed no better for it.

"I should have stayed with Bubbles and the others." She said.

"Hmm, interesting idea, you and four villains at large in the world, performing great acts of daring wherever you see fit. Seems strangely familiar. Oh wait, I know why. You and four heroes, the Rangers, at large in the world, doing acts of daring wherever you see fit."

"You see me turning to crime?"

"You suggested it, not me."

"Perhaps I could reform them." Gadget said hesitantly. It sounded unconvincing even to her. She didn't dare look at Ratigan's expression. "Perhaps not."

"Perhaps not." Agreed Ratigan. "If I might suggest, Gadget Hackwrench IS still outwardly respectable, so far as the public are concerned. She is a pillar of the community and such a position is useful. It offers security, protection and _opportunity_."

"I'm not out for myself." Gadget reminded him.

"You might use it to bend the rules for others though. Deserving cases, poor unfortunate souls, I'd be happy to point them out."

Gadget raised an eyebrow as much as the thickly caked mud on her face would allow. "Professor, you sound suspiciously close to urging me to do a good deed."

The Professor examined the gemstone top of his walking stick. "Hmm, do you know of any reason why I shouldn't want you to do a good deed? I've always said that I'm here to HELP you, after all."

Gadget looked at him. Was he serious? He had caused her a great deal of trouble but everything he had done had been intended to make her break out of jail, perhaps because he genuinely didn't agree with her decision to let the law take its course.

"You're serious?" she asked, warily.

"Quite serious."

"Then, I'd be happy to accept your assistance."

"I'm delighted to hear it, my dear. You do, ah-ha, accept that it would be an act of good to bend the rules for those who have shown some glimmer of promise by their past actions. That charming Bubbles girl, for instance."

"Of course!" Gadget was delighted by the thought of being able to help Bubbles.

"In fact, you've already put it into practice. You helped her get, ah, early remission, so to speak."

Gadget pulled a face.

"Naturally, it follows that the reverse is true. Where someone has done great wrong and gone unpunished for it, you would be doing equal good to see to it they got their just desserts. You would be the very hand of justice." Ratigan said gently in her ear. "After all, that is the other half of the equation."

Ratigan watched as Gadget did the math. He had learned a little of how she thought and now he could practically see the numbers dancing behind her eyes. He had taken pains with this. Chosen the words carefully. Chalk and blackboards had been involved. He was a professor of mathematics, after all.

"Yes. Of course it would be." Gadget said thoughtfully, studying something only she could see.

"You have been the victim of a great injustice. Could you trust the same courts that sent you to Shrankshaw to deal with the person responsible? And how many others, like Fat Cat, or Capone, slither their way out of trouble time and again to hurt other innocents who never needed to hear their names?"

"Too many." Gadget conceded, looking troubled.

"If you let such a thing happen, doesn't that make you responsible, in some small way?"

"Perhaps." Gadget allowed. She hadn't considered that before.

"I can see I've given you a great deal to consider. I'll be on my way." Ratigan almost bowed.

"Thank you, Professor. I've learned a great deal."

"You're very welcome. Any time I can be of assistance…"

"But I almost forgot! I need to find my way out of this forest! If I stay here until dawn there is a high probability that their efforts to recapture me will be successful. Assuming that they are using a simple spiral search pattern starting with my last known location, their chances of intersecting with trail exponentially improve with each sweep they make."

"Spoken like the old Gadget Hackwrench." Ratigan said, massaging his temples.

"Can you show me the true path?" Gadget pleaded, her blue eyes especially large.

Ratigan looked at her in surprise. It was not the question but the phrasing that threw him. He looked into her tired eyes and still saw a great deal of innocence in them. He found himself thinking that if it hadn't been for the dirt and mud and the moss cloak and leaf bonnet and the poor light, even his resolve might have crumbled under the full effect of that beautiful, charming gaze.

"I'd be delighted." He said carefully. "There are two paths before you, my dear Gadget. You will find one of them directly behind you. It is short and swift and leads to a road that runs through the forest between the seaport and the warehouse district of the city. The other is long and difficult and takes you deeper into the forest, but on the far side of it there will be a bright dawn and an open road that will take you to wherever you want to go. That road lies in front of you."

Gadget smiled at him. "Thank you, Professor. That was what I wanted to know. You can go now."

Ratigan didn't move. Then he nodded very slightly. "You have no interest in my views on ethics or what course you should take in life. The correct course out of this forest is the only thing you care about."

"Forgive me. Whatever your motives are, you have done nothing but cause trouble for me since I first laid eyes on you."

"So you decided to trick me, rather than offering any kind of bargain or ask outright for help." Ratigan rolled his eyes skyward.

"Again, forgive me, but I'm rather afraid I'd have to reject any bargain you offered me. I can't be sure why but I suspect it would come at altogether too higher price. And if I had asked for help outright, I think you would have forced me to bargain."

"You know, you're very much like another young lady who's recently made my acquaintance." Ratigan growled.

"If she got the better of you, thank you for the compliment." Gadget grinned. "Goodbye, Professor. I hope we don't meet again."

"You don't understand! There are plans, so many plans, I've spent years scheming and it all depends on you! Come back here! You must take the long path! You can't go back now! Not after everything you've experienced!"

Gadget could almost believe it was a confession, that the professor had been the author of her every misfortune. Suddenly she relished disappointing him. "I'm sorry, Professor, but I'm going back the Rangers. To my friends and Monty's cooking and Chip's nervous compliments and Dale's late night movie marathons and Zipper's Zen chanting. I'm going back to helping people and saving lives and catching crooks, even if I do feel sorry for some of them, and most of all to my OWN BED!"

Gadget stood on the first path the Professor had pointed out to her. The one that went back the way she had come from. Of all the things she missed, she had never thought that her own bed would be the most important, yet now she almost wept at the thought of it.

"My plans! My beautiful plans! Ruined, ruined!" Ratigan seemed to collapse against a tree trunk and his shoulders shook as though he were in tears.

Gadget looked back at him and shivered in disgust. Fat Cat and Nimnul had their plans derailed by the Rangers on a routine basis but never made such a fuss about it. Shaking her head, she reproached him. "To think YOU had the nerve to call ME childish."

Ratigan stayed hunched against the tree, shaking. Gadget left him there without another backward glance.

"Oh, my beautiful plans, what have you done?" Ratigan's head lifted from the trunk. His face was split by a wide, gleeful smile and his shoulders continued to shake with laughter. "Oh, my dear Gadget, what HAVE you done? What HAVE you done?"

202

Gadget ran through the forest. She had no sooner left Ratigan than the sound of a dog baying echoed through the night air, as though the professor had summoned up the pursuit in vengeance. She wouldn't put it past him. Her blood boiled at the thought.

Normally sweet-tempered, Gadget felt like she had been through everything short of hell itself and could feel exhaustion creeping up on her as she staggered along the path. Just as the professor had promised, she soon found a dirt road just barely wide enough for a human to walk down. She paused a moment before stepping onto the road; some instinctive part of her didn't want to leave the cover offered by the bushes that overhung the footpath.

Gadget forced herself to take deep, slow breaths. This was the exhaustion, she knew, stripping away her rational mind until only her raw animal instincts were left to take charge. She couldn't let that happen. Being hunted made her feel like a wild animal but she wasn't one and if she acted like one she would be caught.

She dragged her feet out into the middle of the dirt road and looked both ways.

The storm was dying a lingering death. Its last few intermittent raindrops were indistinguishable from the dripping of wet forest greenery. Standing in the middle of the road, Gadget could see the full moon through a gap in the trees. If Ratigan had been telling the truth and not engaging in another elaborate mind-game with her, the city lay at one end of the road and the docks were at the other.

As a pilot, Gadget's life depended on her navigation skills. They never left her, in the air or on the ground, and they were with her now. Turning, she began to walk towards the city.

She kept walking for over an hour. As she went, she thought of what she would say when she got back home. Both her confidence and her anger seemed to grow with every step.

Chip deserved the biggest piece of her mind, she thought. After all, he had taken the trouble to visit the prison and STILL hadn't seen the obvious when it was right in front of his face. But it was Monty's betrayal, albeit innocent, that hurt her the most.

Monty had been with her when she was a child. He had bought her birthday and Christmas presents, sometimes when even her father couldn't manage it. He had bounced her on his knee and given her pet nicknames and told her bedtime stories and now he apparently couldn't tell the difference between her and the sort of cheap impersonator who would get booed off the stage at a nightclub. But it was Chip who was going to get that silly fedora squashed flat against his head when she caught up with him.

Ooh, she'd make his head vibrate like a gong, partly because he deserved it but mostly because Monty was too tall to receive that kind of treatment unless she got a stepladder!

There was a stepladder in the hall closet, now that she thought about it.

Just let them try and put the cuffs on her and cart her back to prison! She'd show them a thing or two!

Her foot kicked something that had been lying in the road. Gadget glanced at it and stopped dead in mid-stride, knowing instantly what it was. She had just kicked a two centimetre by one centimetre metal mirror that had been super-glued into a handmade plastic casing, including an arm with a metal bracket. The mirror had probably come loose because the metal bracket needed two bolts to attach it to the body of a heavily adapted remote control car. During the last maintenance session however, the bolts had been misplaced and the person responsible for the upkeep of the vehicle had been too tired to look for them, preferring to reattach the mirror with duct tape as a temporary measure.

Gadget cradled the broken mirror in her hands as a kindly human might hold an injured bird. Her mechanical skills and knowledge could have allowed her to deduce all this but in this case she already knew it all because the person responsible for the upkeep of the vehicle was Gadget Hackwrench.

With a feeling of dread that far excelled anything she had known in Shrankshaw, Gadget turned and saw the wreckage of the Ranger-mobile.

203

Lawhiney kicked at a stone. It had all been going so well, dang it! She was free of the Rangers, free of the plaster cast and out of the city. Even that annoying nag, Geegaw, had evaporated like a summer mist.

And then Ratigan had spoiled it all.

She hadn't the faintest doubt he had done it deliberately and that she had genuinely seen the rat standing in the middle of the road. Whatever you said about subconscious impulses, repression and post-traumatic stress Lawhiney was certain that no part of her, however small or repressed, wanted to die a slow painful death in the wreckage of a pointless road accident miles from anywhere.

It had been payback for embarrassing him at the hospital when she used him to emotionally blackmail Geegaw into healing her leg. The rat had left in a storm of fury, vowing vengeance on his return and Lawhiney didn't doubt that this was just the first the first trick he would play on her, the dirty, rotten snake-oil salesman.

After the accident she had spent twenty or minutes or so, curled into a ball of pain, silently praying she wasn't about to go into labour. Mercifully, she hadn't. Then she had sat on a tree route until she stopped shaking. It had taken half an hour or so and she had spent most of the time wishing she had brought a flask of something warming with her. She wasn't thinking of tomato soup.

Finally Lawhiney got to her feet and surveyed the damage, staggering around the wreckage until it was obvious that there was no way she could get the car righted and running again by herself.

The Ranger-mobile had come to rest on its left side with its nose crushed against a rock larger than the vehicle itself. Most of the plastic attachments to the bodywork, such as the bull bars, lights and mirrors, were all either broken or had been scraped away. Thankfully the roll bars had been some of Gadget's additions, made of real metal. They had protected Lawhiney from the worst of the crash.

At the back of the car a battery had broken free of its compartment and was hanging by a single wire. A single brake light glowed dimly, casting a sinister ruby glow across Lawhiney's pained and worried face.

The underside of the Ranger-mobile was a patchwork of mechanics so complicated that Lawhiney couldn't even take a guess at which parts were damaged and which parts not. Lawhiney stared at it and groaned.

All she could be sure of was that a wheel had escaped during the accident, bouncing free to who-knew-where, and a steel shaft the length of her own body had broken loose and was hanging out of the undercarriage. Since she didn't know where the wheel had gone and had no idea what the shaft was supposed to do, Lawhiney was forced to write the Ranger-Mobile off as a complete wreck.

Lawhiney turned asides from the ruin, lifted her eyes and found herself nose to nose with a strange and ghostly figure.

"AGH!" She recoiled.

The figure didn't flinch but stared at Lawhiney, unmoving.

Lawhiney relaxed but only slightly. The stranger in front of her was dirty, dishevelled and covered in wet mud. It – she, Lawhiney guessed though wasn't ready to commit herself – was wearing a head wrap made from a single leaf that left her eyes and face in darkness and a cloak of moss that hid her shape and clothes. The strange figure looked much like some poor backwoods creature who had never seen a human or, horror of horrors, a clothes shop. Lawhiney shivered at the thought.

"Ah-ha! Excuse me." Lawhiney said. "I'm still shaken up from crashing the car. Something ran across the road. Oh! I didn't hit it so there's no need to be concerned, for anyone other than me, I mean, but I could really use some help from someone local. You know, to get through the forest, and you clearly are very… local."

Lawhiney badly needed this person's help but she couldn't make eye contact, which was important when trying to gain someone's confidence. The stranger's eyes were shadowed by her leaf headscarf and there was a single straw stuck in the mud that caked the stranger's chest that was drawing Lawhiney's eyes instead.

There was so much wrong with the figure's appearance that it was hard to say why a single straw bothered Lawhiney so. Perhaps it was the way the stranger seemed unaware of its very presence. Perhaps it was the way the straw seemed to point directly at Lawhiney like an accusing finger. Perhaps it was simply the _last_ straw.

Lawhiney plucked it free.

The stranger seemed to look at the straw for a moment, then glower at her.

"Excuse me." She said, awkwardly. She had just touched a total stranger without the slightest indication it would be welcome.

The stranger continued to glower.

Lawhiney's sense of discomfort increased with the length of the silence.

"I'm trying to get to the seaport, before dawn. It's, uh, very important." She tried. She was going to need a story. Should she be the desperate young mother-to-be rushing to meet the father of her child, or should she be Gadget Hackwrench one last time? "Could you help me?"

The stranger's jaw dropped.

"Why should I help you?" The stranger's voice was hoarse and hostile.

Lawhiney considered quickly. If Ratigan was real, so was Geegaw and running the Gadget Hackwrench routine again was definitely a no-no if she wanted to dodge the grim future Geegaw had dangled in front of her. Then again, the mother-to-be story was somewhat hampered by little Roche's apparent reluctance to ruin his mother's girlish figure and the fact that the car she had just crashed was all too clearly marked with the Rescue Ranger's insignia.

Lawhiney coughed politely and made her decision. "We haven't been properly introduced. My name's Gadget Hackwrench."

204

At the sound of her own name from Lawhiney's lips, Gadget felt a firecracker of rage explode behind her eyes. She gasped and the sound was like the hiss of a predator even to her own ears.

From the moment Lawhiney had set eyes on Gadget and failed to turn tail and run for her life, it had been obvious that Lawhiney did not recognize her. Perhaps it was the mud and the dark but after everything she had suffered, Gadget found it easy to believe she had changed beyond all recognition and that no one, not even her friends, would call her by her own name again.

Lawhiney had taken everything from her.

Gadget took a step forward in anger, uncertain what she was about to do. Monty, Chip, Dale, Zipper… had none of them known her well enough to see through this charade? She stopped. She owed it to them to find out before she finished this.

She leaned in close to whisper her one and only warning. "This had better be good."

Lawhiney shrank back from Gadget, her eyes reappraising the spectre in front of her. "Uh, what better be good?"

Gadget couldn't reply without causing Lawhiney to bolt but in the privacy of her own head she practically shouted. What better be good? Why, your routine of course, your oh-so-convincing impersonation of me that everyone, including my nearest and dearest friends, seems to prefer to the real thing. I've been through a lot. I deserve to be impressed now and you better impress me. Your routine better be simply _amazing_, in fact. Because otherwise I'm going to stomp you flat.

Out loud, all she said was: "Let's see it. Don't keep me waiting."

Lawhiney blinked and stammered. "You – You mean my credentials? Rescue Rangers aren't police or sheriffs. We don't carry badges or anything. But you can see the Ranger-mobile right next to us. It has the Ranger logo on the side and front. We could see them clearly from the other side of the car if you really need to look but seriously, who else could I be? Monterey Jack?"

Gadget almost laughed but not at the thought of someone confusing Monty and her. Was it that simple? Show people a vehicle with the right logo on the side and they believed anything you said? Gadget's eyes wandered sadly to the car and back to Lawhiney. Yes, perhaps that, a lavender jumpsuit and blond hair were all you needed if you were dealing with someone who hadn't met Gadget Hackwrench before.

"I see you crashed the car." Gadget's tone was poised and even. It promised mayhem in ways only a perfectly calm feminine voice could.

"I – what? Yes. I crashed. I swerved to avoid someone in the road." Lawhiney seemed thrown by the change of subject. Gadget wondered if people seemed this stupid to Chip when he interrogated them.

"Some… body?" Was there someone else out here, hiding in the dark? Someone who might bring the search parties?

"I thought there was somebody. I was mistaken. I didn't hit anything so you don't need to be concerned about anyone except me."

Gadget's lips drew back in something that might be called a smile. "Don't worry. I won't be concerned."

Lawhiney blinked. "Uh… good."

"I always thought Gadget Hackwrench was an excellent driver."

"Why, thank you!" Lawhiney pretended to be flattered. "But actually Chip does most of the driving. The boys aren't keen on letting a blonde behind the wheel."

Gadget blinked. None of the boys had ever expressed such reservations to her. If they had done so, she would have given them an answer they would have remembered.

"But it always gives me a nice safe feeling, knowing there's a big strong male at the wheel." Lawhiney purred. "Know what I mean?"

If there had been any males listening, the rough silk tone of Lawhiney's voice would have turned their knees to jelly. No doubt it would have had a similar effect on their brains, a detail that would have passed the pre-Shrankshaw Gadget by. Gadget immediately wondered how many of Lawhiney's victims were male. An overwhelming majority, Gadget was sure. Was that the other half of Lawhiney's success?

Gadget discarded any thought of Lawhiney's other victims. Any male stupid enough to be taken in by a pair of pretty eyes and a voice that stroked their ego the right way deserved what they got; perhaps it would teach them to look at the person underneath the make-up next time.

Lawhiney's smile was becoming strained waiting for an answer. Gadget found one that would make her even more uncomfortable.

"Isn't Chip smaller than you?"

Lawhiney gulped. "You know Chip?"

"Not really, now you come to mention it, no." Misleading or not, in Gadget's own opinion, her answer was nothing less than the truth and more honesty than she owed Lawhiney.

"He's a great guy. A great detective." Lawhiney enthused. "You can't pull the wool over his eyes."

"Have you ever tried?"

"What? I – of course not! Why? Why would you ask that?"

"What about Monty? Is Monterey Jack the way everyone says he is? Big and brave and generous hearted?"

Lawhiney hesitated. "He is. A giant amongst mice with a heart of gold and a story for every occasion."

Gadget stared. She could have sworn Lawhiney was sincere, until she remembered that was what made a successful confidence trick. "And Dale?"

Suddenly Lawhiney looked as though she had just been given bad news. Her eyes sparked with tears and her face crumpled. For a heartbeat Gadget felt genuine fear for the boisterous chipmunk who had made her laugh so often. Then she remembered herself, or more accurately, remembered Lawhiney.

Ah, Gadget thought, here it comes. The ever-so-convincing reason why I should do whatever it is she wants me to.

"Dale is… Dale had an… accident." Lawhiney choked on the words. Every word and gesture, every strangled little sound and brimming tear seemed to tell the truth.

Gadget waited but Lawhiney seemed unable to add another word. Clearly she was waiting for Gadget to ask if Dale were dead, at which point Lawhiney would launch into some prepared story that would no doubt end with an appeal for help that only a stonehearted monster could refuse.

Out of pure stubbornness, Gadget said nothing. She glared at Lawhiney, silently daring her to tell another lie.

Lawhiney simply stood there like a good little girl, with her hands behind her back and her innocent blue eyes staring back at Gadget until Gadget gave up in disgust and finished the pitch for her.

"I suppose Dale is on his deathbed and that you were on some kind of desperate, last minute mercy dash."

The effect her words had on Lawhiney was striking. Lawhiney's eyes went wide in amazement. Her jaw dropped in shock. For a split second the confidence trickster's expression was blank, as though she were struggling to resolve some internal conflict, and then she began to nod so rapidly that Gadget fancied she could hear a hollow rattle.

"You desperately need my help, a vehicle, or something else I wouldn't normally part with but which no reasonable creature could refuse you under these exceptional circumstances."

Lawhiney smiled and kept nodding, albeit less quickly.

"And even if I had doubts that you were telling the truth, I'd probably set them aside rather than risk someone dying just because I had a nasty, suspicious nature."

Lawhiney stopped nodding and her smile faded.

"So that's how it's done. Thank you." Gadget said quietly, tugging at the stalk of her leaf bonnet. The bonnet came away, slick and wet, and let Gadget's tangled, mud-soaked hair fall free.

Lawhiney stared. It was Gadget's eyes that caught her attention, not that Lawhiney recognised them. Perhaps Gadget really had changed enough to prevent that happening, for the moment. It was the expression in them. No anger. No fury. Just calm. But it was that terrible calm you find at the heart of a hurricane.

"Who are you?" Asked Lawhiney, trying to back away until her back was pressed against the rock the Ranger car had crashed into. She edged along it until she could start to circle round the stranger, but that put the crazy mouse between her and the Ranger-mobile.

"Who do you think I am?" Gadget turned to follow Lawhiney.

"Nobody! Just someone who lives in the forest. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Perhaps you just don't like humans or the noise of the city. You're a good citizen I'm sure." Lawhiney stumbled on a root and landed on her shapely behind.

Gadget towered over her. "And a good citizen would help you, wouldn't they?"

"Yes! I don't want much! I'll walk to the docks if I have to, but I've got to be there by dawn."

"Why? Are you running away?" Gadget demanded.

"Running – I don't know why you should think such a thing! Any good citizen would help me, just as you said!"

"What if I'm not a good citizen? What if I'm just a crook, a convict, escaped this very night, with a nasty grudge?"

Lawhiney stared at her with wide, frightened eyes. Her mouth was a terrified "O".

"What about it, _Miss Hackwrench_? What would a dangerous fugitive from justice be happy to do for, or should I say _to_, a lone stranded Rescue Ranger found all alone in the woods on a dark and stormy night? Would a wanted criminal help you get your car back on the road? You think?"

Lawhiney drew a deep, trembling breath. She had dropped the torch halfway between herself and the other mouse. It was rolling around on its side, lighting the stranger's face and body from below as thought she were a Halloween prankster. Maybe that was it? Could she dare hope this was a deranged prank by the local nutcase?

"If you were a fugitive you'd have to be crazy to tell me. Even crazier to mess with me! You'd have Monterey Jack and Chip Maplewood and every other detective within a hundred miles hunting you down." This was good. Excellent. It could serve as a warning if this lunatic really was a fugitive and left her a little wriggle room to pretend she hadn't believed any admissions of guilt and therefore wouldn't act on them.

"I've been called crazy."

Lawhiney had to admit that the stranger's eyes did shine with a wild, disturbing light. She tried another tack. "I need to get to the docks. I don't care who you are. If you'll help me get to the docks, I'll forget I ever saw you."

"Surely the great Gadget Hackwrench can get her car back on the road without any help from me!" The stranger taunted her.

"My reputation is a little exaggerated. They call me their engineer because I can do an oil change without any help but I have to rely on the guys for this complicated stuff!" Diplomacy, Lawhiney reminded herself, is the art of saying 'nice doggie' until you can find a rock. She felt desperately around for a rock, a twig, something that had been thrown clear from the Ranger-mobile, anything she could use as a weapon.

"A sprung rear axel, a wheel change, a few electrical shorts and some cracked body work? Are you telling me Gadget Hackwrench needs help with that?"

Lawhiney's hand found something. It turned out to be the broken wing mirror from the Ranger-mobile. Gadget had dropped it on her way over but all Lawhiney knew was that it felt hard and metallic in her hand. Slightly braver because of it, she raised her voice. "Just between us girls, the boys really just keep me around to brighten the place up! Seriously, I can't tell the difference between one end of a spanner and the other but you know what men are like, sister. You have to make nice and play along with them if you want to get them to do anything. Now come on, how about lending a hand?"

"No."

"Alright! If I have to, I'll walk on out of here my own. Without you."

Gadget's voice was growl. "Without me? I don't think so. I think you'll take me everywhere you go, keep me closer to you than the shirt on your back. You'll only discard me when you've soiled my name so much you can't wear it anymore." Acting out her very words, Gadget pulled the moss cloak from her back, tore it in half and cast its separate pieces to the ground.

Lawhiney froze. Hunched over, with her face caked in mud and twisted by rage, the stranger in the moss cloak wasn't immediately recognizable as Gadget Hackwrench. Still, once given a hint, a clue as to just who to look for under all that dirt, Lawhiney couldn't help but see a familiar shape and form; her own form. Not Gadget Hackwrench.

Lawhiney gaped for a moment before her brain restarted and reminded her that there only two people who looked like Gadget Hackwrench. She was still fairly sure which one she was, which left only one person the wild haired, ragged, filthy vagrant in front of her could be.

"Gadget? That's you under all that crud? PHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Lawhiney curled up into a ball, slapping the ground beside her with hysterical laughter. "Oh Lord! I thought I was in real trouble for a moment there!"

Gadget looked dumbfounded. "Trouble? You know who I am and you don't think you're in trouble?"

"Ah, I give up! I won't try to run. You caught me. Ah-ha-heh. I guess it was always going to be you, destiny or something, but-" Lawhiney raised a finger dramatically "-I'm going to be put away in a nice warm prison cell, not a shallow grave!"

"Shallow grave?"

"You really had me going for a moment there. What with us being way out here in the woods, no witnesses, and you acting crazy and everything. Wow, I thought this was it, girl! My time was up!"

Lawhiney mimed terror and then fell back on the ground as though dead. Since she was still in a sitting position, it was easy enough to do. She wasn't done talking though. Lawhiney, the girl with a secret for so long, had finally found someone she could talk to.

"Oh, I gotta tell you though, you're going to have a real job convincing the first cop we meet that you're you. I've been playing you for weeks and you know what? It wasn't that people didn't suspect. I think they all did at one time or another. It's just that none of them were sure enough to say it out loud. I don't even think they were afraid of looking silly by saying it. They just didn't want to see the hurt look in your eyes if they were wrong."

"Everything I've been through… has been because my friends… saw something was wrong… and didn't want to take a chance on hurting my feelings?" Gadget worked her mouth mechanically.

"I guess so, 'cause good as my little act is there's no way it should have lasted this long. Not living in the same house as them. Not even with Ge – " Lawhiney put her hand over her mouth as though she had burped. "Excuse me. I meant, especially not with Chip being a great detective and all. Speaking of which, you are just going to have to have a word with that chipmunk. Because ya know, interspecies dating can be a lot of fun, believe me. I know, I've been there, but you've had that guy dangling on the end of a line for how long?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, sure you do! He's just been waiting for the right moment to propose to you for how long now?"

"Propose what?"

"Marriage, of course! Don't tell me you didn't know. He's got a ring and everything – uh, well, I guess he HAD a ring."

Gadget's head was spinning. "Chip had a ring?"

"Want to see it?"

"Chip proposed to you?"

"Ah, don't get your panties in a bunch, I stole it…"

"You stole…?" Gadget shook her head to clear it. "HOW CAN YOU HAVE THE NERVE TO SIT THERE AND TELL ME THIS? HOW? HOW CAN YOU DARE SAY THIS TO MY FACE?"

Lawhiney flinched back from her anger but Gadget didn't see fear in her enemy's face. She saw surprise and even a little hurt.

"Well, uh, you'll understand. You know how it is. Some people are just good and some people are just… bad. It's not necessarily anyone's fault, it's just how folks are made. People just do what's in their nature to do and you're one of the lucky ones, right? 'Cause it's in your nature to be good, so you're good and I'm… bad. That's how I know you're going to be… good about this. I mean, you may not like me very much and you gave me a good scare – ah-ha – you really got me good earlier, but you aren't going to hurt me and you'll probably even be polite."

Gadget stared at her, aghast.

The worst thing was it sounded exactly right. It sounded exactly like what Gadget Hackwrench would have done. Two months ago. So when she spoke it was Red's voice that was weak and trembling. "Why? Why is it in my nature?"

Lawhiney's eyes held nothing but empty puzzlement. She truly hadn't got a clue. "I don't know. It just is. Because you're Gadget Hackwrench."

205

Something went click inside Gadget's brain.

It was as though some hidden counter she was previously unaware of had finally reached a predetermined number and released whatever safety-catch or trigger it was attached to. Lawhiney's tone had done it, thought some detached and still rational part of Gadget's brain as she strode towards the wrecked Ranger-mobile. Specifically it was the way Lawhiney made what Gadget had been trying to tell everyone for months without success sound so simple, so obvious.

She, Red, was Gadget Hackwrench, the good girl who always did what a good girl was supposed to and a little bit more for good measure. "Gadget Hackwrench: Good Girl" – It might as well have been a neon-sign glued to her forehead. Gadget pushed the blueprints for such a sign and wearable power source out of her mind's eye as quickly as her inventive instincts conjured them.

With a few swift and horribly economical movements, Gadget used those same instincts when she reached into the wreckage of the toy car, grasped a shaft of metal and wrenched it free. It was a steel bar the thickness of Gadget's thumb, roughly the length of her body, with a cog at the end. The other end had been sheared off during the accident, leaving only a bent and jagged point that might make a blunt, makeshift spear.

"Uh, doesn't the Ranger-mobile need that if it's going to get back on the road?" Lawhiney wondered uneasily.

Gadget advanced on the prone liar, cheat and thief with a single-mindedness she had seldom known.

Lawhiney looked back at Gadget in puzzlement. She didn't see the murderous rage behind her eyes until Gadget was almost close enough to touch her with the end of the metal bar she was carrying.

"YIPE!" Lawhiney flipped onto all fours and tried to bolt only to be brought up short by the firm grip Gadget had a on her tail. "SQUEEK!"

Lawhiney looked over her shoulder with the huge eyes of a frightened child cornered by an angry parent. It felt as though her tail was about to be torn out by the root but she knew from childhood experience that reaching back to grab the base of her tail would only put more stress on the bones between her hands and Gadget. Instead she let the root of her tail take the full load as she used the traction of all four paws to get away from Gadget.

One handed, Gadget wrapped the end of Lawhiney's tail around her fist and planted her feet securely to resist Lawhiney's escape attempt. She had to take a couple of steps after the little cheat to stop the tail from slipping through her fingers but the metal bar proved a fine staff and kept Gadget's balance.

Lawhiney pulled until her eyes looked like they were about to pop out of their sockets. She was sure her tail was about to snap. She looked back at Gadget. Gadget's face was implacable, cold, every muscle tense to the point of being mask-like. Her eyes held all the warmth and compassion of a machine. Lawhiney's line of sight made it seem like the one working break-light on the Ranger-mobile was a neon-red devil riding on Gadget's shoulder.

Gadget fell to her knees in a deliberate, calculated way. It allowed her to hold Lawhiney's tail closer to the ground.

Lawhiney dug her fingers and toes into the loose forest soil, trying to pull away, but all she was doing was dragging Gadget behind her in the hardest way possible.

Gadget was having no more of it. She lifted one knee and put it down on top of Lawhiney's tail. That, along with the grip maintained, was enough to hold the struggling girl in place.

Lawhiney's struggles slackened. Her tail, only truly healed two weeks earlier, could stand no more. There were tears in her eyes when she looked back at the remorseless Gadget.

Gadget lifted one leg and planted a heel on Lawhiney's tail, as though she were working her way up to the part of Lawhiney she could kick. Carefully, Gadget stood. She put her full weight on the foot with Lawhiney's tail under it and released her grip.

Lawhiney flipped over onto her back so she could use her arms and legs to defend herself. She looked up at Gadget in terror.

"You're a blood-sucking parasite!" Gadget told her. "A vampire! And I'm going to drive a stake right through your heart!"

Gadget raised her makeshift spear to impale Lawhiney. The spear glinted red in the glare of the dying break light. Lawhiney trembled at the sight.

"GADGET, STOP!"

Gadget froze, her face shocked and her eyes locked on someone behind Lawhiney. Lawhiney risked tilting her head right back and saw someone neither of them had expected to see again.

Geegaw stood at the edge of the road and looked down at both of them. He wasn't wearing his robes, instead his old flight jacket and silk scarf made him look exactly the way he had the morning of his final flight. The sight was enough to nearly break two hearts. Gadget's heart because seeing him again brought back all the pain of losing him and Lawhiney's because she saw he wasn't wearing his robes. She knew that meant Geegaw wasn't her guide any more. He had come here to save Gadget's precious soul and maybe Lawhiney's own worthless neck as a side effect.

"Daddy?" Gadget breathed, her expression still slack with disbelief. She lowered her weapon, not even aware it still existed.

"Gadget, please, look at what you're doing! I didn't raise you to be a murderer! Your mother – she's such a gentle soul. I wish you could see her again but if you do this…" Geegaw trailed off shaking his head in horror. In truth, every part of Geegaw's body was shaking. He had come prepared for something but not for this.

Basil hadn't told him. Perhaps the detective hadn't known or perhaps he hadn't been able to find the right words. Perhaps Basil had known that whatever words were used, Geegaw could never have believed this.

"Mother?" Gadget's eyes seemed to soften with hope. Then a glint of something hard and despairing seemed to snuff out the light in them. "No. You're both dead and I'm all alone in the world. I'm hallucinating."

Lawhiney babbled desperately. "No. I see him too. Wearing a bomber jacket, not robes and definitely no scythe! He's GEEGAW HACKWRENCH, your FATHER and he's standing RIGHT THERE!"

Gadget's eyes filled with confusion, then she realised that Lawhiney had heard her say the word 'Daddy' when the hallucination had appeared. Lawhiney was simply taking advantage of someone's intimate moment of pain and doubt in order to make good her escape. It was, Gadget decided, despicable.

She curled her lip at Lawhiney. "LIAR! You'll say ANYTHING to save your own worthless hide!"

For a second time she raised her weapon to strike.

Geegaw dropped to his knees as if in prayer and begged. "Gadget, please! Don't do this to my wonderful daughter! Don't do this to my little girl!"

And with that, Geegaw began to sob.

206

Lawhiney stared at the weeping Geegaw. He had just begged Gadget not to hurt his little girl, his wonderful daughter, and so far as Lawhiney could see she was the only one about to be hurt.

Was it possible?

Gadget's father was, unsurprisingly enough, about the right age to also be Lawhiney's _own_ father. He had even hinted at having some knowledge or experience of Lawhiney's mother when he had seen her name mentioned in Lawhiney's confession.

In Gadget's photo-album there were dozens pictures of him striking a rakish pose in front of this dramatic backdrop or that new aircraft so it didn't stretch Lawhiney's imagination far to suppose Gadget's dear old dad had misbehaved like any other roguish globetrotting pilot, at least, until he was left holding the baby. After all, his claim that he could act as a guide because he knew all the temptations and excuses for giving into them was as much as an admission that he had been as crooked as she was. It even explained the apparent cruelty of Geegaw's bosses upstairs when they put him to work reforming someone who not only looked exactly like his beloved daughter but who's misbehaviour had put said daughter in grave danger. It was almost like saying: "This is your mess. Now clean it up."

Lawhiney turned back to Gadget with a considering eye.

She had called Gadget 'sister' when they first met but had never dreamed it could be more than a word that would help her get what she wanted. The physical resemblance between them had almost entirely vanished thanks to Gadget's forest makeover. Even so Lawhiney couldn't help remembering that she had seen, for one disorientating moment, herself in Gadget's posture, voice and actions. The similarity between them was more than skin deep. It ran all the way to the bone. Gadget had just needed a little prison time to bring it to the surface.

That made Lawhiney realise how wrong she had been a few seconds ago. It wasn't solely in Gadget's nature to be 'good about things'. Gadget was capable of everything she was and in this situation Lawhiney hadn't the slightest doubt that meant murder.

207

Gadget stared at her weeping father. For the first time she realised that she had never seen him cry, not even after her mother had disappeared. She knew he must have done so, she could remember the smell of saltwater on his face when he hugged her and tucked her in bed that first night, but he had never done so in front of her.

She had made her father cry.

Except Geegaw never cried in front of her and he had been dead for at least seven years. Given a choice between knowing she had caused him this much pain and knowing she was insane, she found the padded cell preferable.

She looked down at Lawhiney in anger and contempt.

"You haven't even left me my SANITY!" Gadget put the point of the metal shaft to Lawhiney's throat as though it were a spear and leaned in close to hiss: "I haven't slept for so long I want to weep at the thought of my own bed! I've been electrocuted – twice! I've been drowned and nearly steam-ironed and drugged and beaten and frightened half to death and now I'm seeing things that aren't there! And you know what?" Gadget's voice dropped to a low growl. "That means this _isn't even murder!_"

Lawhiney whimpered.

Gadget seemed to delight at the sound. A cruel and happy light danced in her eyes as she whispered, almost lovingly, into Lawhiney's ear. "No one will hold me responsible for anything I do now, not even myself!"

208

Geegaw was already on his knees. He reached out to his daughter. "Gadget, please! If you want to believe I'm hallucination then do but all that means is that there's a part of you that knew me well enough to know how I'd feel about what you're about to do!"

Gadget hesitated. This was bad. Part of her was agitating that Lawhiney would get the drop on her if she didn't act quickly, another that it would mean Lawhiney had made a fool of her if she did anything but drive the stake through her lying heart. She was exhausted, close to collapse, battered and bruised from the last six weeks in Shrankshaw prison. Every injury she had sustained in the prison riot of the previous morning felt like a mortal wound. When the authorities arrived there was every chance she would be taken back, no matter who they decided she might be or what her mental state was.

The smart thing to do was to finish it and quickly. Strike the blow. Simplify the equation. Then she'd only have the authorities to deal with and, whatever they did to her, she'd always have the satisfaction of knowing she had avenged herself. She would have clawed back some pride from this hopeless, awful mess that there seemed to be no way out of.

Lawhiney was lying on her side and trying to either crawl away or see the hallucination Gadget was having for herself. Gadget put the pointy end of her steel bar to Lawhiney's shoulder and pushed hard enough to give Lawhiney a choice between blood loss and laying prone on her back to await Gadget's pleasure.

When both her shoulders and her back were pressed firmly against the ground, Lawhiney looked up at Gadget with the blank empty expression of someone who knew they were about to die. Gadget thought the look conveyed nothing if not disappointment, presumably at the discovery that this was all life had left to offer her.

So it was something of a surprise when Lawhiney spoke to her.

"Geegaw Hackwrench, your father, just said you know how he would feel about what you are about to do, regardless of whether you're imagining him or not. And before that he asked you not to hurt his little girl, his wonderful daughter."

Gadget froze. She was at the end of her tether and it took a little while for Lawhiney's words to filter through her brain. Gadget was as still as a statue while she tried to understand what her senses were telling her.

When she was ready, Gadget tried to force her vocal cords to work. It took several attempts before she could make a sound. "Yuh - You see him too? You heard him?"

"Yes, yes, I see him, I hear him! I can't touch him because he's dead but I know he's there as well as you do!" Lawhiney hissed at her with malice. "He's your beloved father and you'd cheerfully murder me in front of him."

Gadget had never felt less cheerful in her life. She looked like a lost child. "Dad?"

Geegaw nodded, his face etched with sadness and relief.

Lawhiney didn't know when to shut up. "I've been seeing him and hearing him for weeks now! Every move I make, every vow I break, every smile I fake, he's been watching me! "

Gadget's face, still far from radiating happiness, clouded further. "Weeks? He's been with you for weeks?"

Behind Lawhiney, Geegaw was shaking his head desperately.

"Well, I've got news for you, Gadget! In case you missed it he begged you not to hurt his little girl! His wonderful daughter! And just who were you standing over with a deadly weapon poised to strike when he said that? ME!"

Geegaw slapped his paw over his eyes in despair. He truly believed this couldn't get any worse. Then he took his paw away from his face and saw that it had.

Lawhiney was sitting very still. Her eyes wide open like a little child's and her index finger still pointed to her own chest, directly at, as it happened, her own heart. She was completely silent. Her eyes were fixed on what looked to be a shadow coalescing at Gadget's shoulder, a shadow that was taking on the silhouetted shape of a rat in evening dress even as Lawhiney watched.

"Oh no." Geegaw breathed.

Lawhiney risked a glance at Geegaw and saw his expression, frozen in horror. Then she looked back at Ratigan.

As Ratigan bowed forward to put his mouth next to Gadget's ear, his eyes locked with Lawhiney's and he smiled a cold, deliberate smile that chilled her blood. Just loud enough for Lawhiney to hear, Ratigan poured four little words of pure poison into Gadget's ear.

"She stole your Daddy."

209

Ratigan's words slid into Gadget's heart like a knife. If she could have died right then, her soul would have fled her body that instant.

There was a terrible silence, not merely the absence of sound but the absence of thought. Gadget's wonderful brain, that so often outraced her lively mouth, had been stilled. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for Gadget to use the power of life and death that had been placed in her hands.

The spear rose in her hand. Then fell.

From nerveless fingers.

Gadget dropped to the ground like a broken puppet and began to sob uncontrollably.

"STIKE!" Screamed Ratigan. "Why didn't you strike?"

And then Lawhiney began to point and laugh. It would have been nice to relate that she banished Ratigan with a gypsy curse and put her arms around Gadget to console her, the way Gadget's mother would have, but Lawhiney had made only a little progress and she still had a long way to go. So instead she laughed.

Gadget continued sob like a baby without caring. It was Lawhiney who answered Ratigan.

"She CAN'T do it! THAT'S why she didn't do it! She's GADGET HACKWRENCH and she can't DO IT because she was born a GOOD PERSON! You can't change what you are." Lawhiney seemed to flinch at her own words as if they had turned and bitten her. "You can't change what you are." She repeated weakly. "I never had a choice, I was always like this, I'm always going to be this way."

Her face crumpled with pity that was mostly for herself, Lawhiney began to silently weep as she stared at Gadget.

Geegaw watched the girls cry with an expression of mounting rage. He advanced on Ratigan, shaking with anger. "Why, you, rotten, stinking, lousy… I'll break you in two!"

"Settle down, half-pint!" Ratigan told him derisively. "You know it's a treaty violation if you lay a finger on me, so just you keep your paws to yourself. Who are you to threaten me anyway? A runt, a nobody, I'd wipe the floor with you."

"Is that so?" Geegaw's voice was strangled with fury.

"You can depend on it, shorty! Why, you can't have been dead ten years! Do you know how long I've been doing this? If I'd known it was going to be you, I wouldn't even have bothered to show up. You were supposed to be Basil!"

"Basil." Geegaw repeated slowly. A look of understanding crossed the mouse's face as though the final piece of a jigsaw had just settled into place. "You must be Ratigan! Basil gave me a message in case you turned up. He says he doesn't need to be the one who stops you any more, so long as someone does and he knows now there always will be. He's not playing cops and robbers with you any more and he's not coming back. He's moved on and says: 'Isn't it time you did the same?'"

Ratigan's jaw went slack and his face paled. For a moment Geegaw thought he was about to start crying.

"Basil? No…?" His face darkened. "NO! How DARE he? How dare HE desert ME?"

"And that's not all! In case you missed it, I've got something to tell you: Gadget didn't murder anyone and you've no better chance of recruiting her now than you did yesterday, last week or last year and since Lawhiney isn't dead you don't get her, either! Not tonight, not ever if I have my way! You might as well pack up and go home, because it's over! You've failed!"

Geegaw took one step after another towards Ratigan as he spoke. The rat backed away, speechless and helpless before Geegaw's anger.

"And I'll tell you another thing!" Geegaw yelled, not caring if his voice carried all the way to heaven. "You're going to get your tail out of here and you're never coming back to bother either of these girls, or I'm going to start asking questions about how it is Gadget can see you and hear you and where you were all this time that you were supposed to be working on Lawhiney and I'm not going to stop asking until I get answers! There are pretty heavy penalties for going door to door in our trade, you know!"

Ratigan struggled to recover some of his lost pride. He drew himself up to his full height and fixed a withering stare on… anything he could see that wasn't Geegaw, actually. "Don't worry yourself about little matters like that, your daughter and I are old friends. She summoned me to aid her this very night, in fact, so you might be a little rash in making any predictions, let alone threats. As for Lawhiney, I won't trouble to spend any more time on her. SHE doesn't need any help to find her true path, I just hope she can manage without yours, too."

"Mine? What are you talking about?"

"That little matter of a tribunal you had to attend? The one ending your, ah-ha, promising career as a Spirit Guide? Oh, but I see you're here instead… unless you've already been, in which case you're a fine one to talk about going door to door. Either way, I don't think Lawhiney will be seeing you again." Ratigan's lips twitched in a nervous smile. "Goodnight, Hackwrench. I'll look forward to seeing your charming daughter in due time… well, one of them, at any rate."

210

After Ratigan had vanished in a puff of sulphur that was perfectly timed to leave Geegaw swearing at thin air. After he got a grip on himself, Geegaw took what passed for a deep breath and listened to the uncomfortable sounds of female tears behind him. He delayed turning around as long as possible because somehow his extensive training as a Guide hadn't included a course on how to deal with weeping women.

Finally, when it would have bordered on cowardice to ignore them any longer, Geegaw turned and opened his mouth, certain that somewhere in his long travels he had picked up the perfect light-hearted quip to make them laugh.

He hadn't.

The moment he saw them, his heart sank. Ratigan had done his work too well. He doubted either of the girls would ever be the same again.

It was Lawhiney who broke the silence. "I told you so. It's no good trying to save me."

Geegaw sighed. "Yes. You did."

"I can't change. No one can. And I'm going to Hell."

Geegaw shook his head. "Now hold on! Do you really want to bet the rest of your existence on his judgement? I mean think about it: What does he know about redemption, except that he didn't get any?"

"I can't change." Lawhiney repeated stubbornly.

"Change is the one certainty in life, and then some." Geegaw replied. "You have changed, you are changing and you will change. The hard thing is to take hold of that change and bend it in a direction it wouldn't normally go."

"If people can change then why didn't she skewer me?"

Geegaw almost laughed. "Are you complaining because she didn't?"

"Ratigan had as long with her as you had with me and she was in prison!"

"You think I've changed you into a GOOD person?"

"That just proves my point!"

"It proves there hasn't been enough time, that's all. Not enough time to get you to face all of what you've done, just to look at it differently and certainly not enough time for that door to door salesman to turn Gadget into a murderer."

"Don't count on it." Gadget's voice rose from the ground, in a bitter growl.

Geegaw and Lawhiney exchanged nervous looks.

"Gadget, honey?" Geegaw said in the voice he reserved for when he was knocking on her bedroom door after she had fled there in floods of tears.

Gadget lifted her face from the mud, her normally beautiful face lined by hate and streaked with tears. She glared at Lawhiney. "You stole my daddy." She accused.

"Nononono-" Lawhiney was waving her hands desperately.

"Gadgie, no one could ever take me away from you." Geegaw promised desperately.

"DON'T SAY THAT!" Gadget sat in the mud and hollered like a toddler. "When someone already DID!"

Geegaw's face darkened with sorrow. "Gadget, listen to me. No creature in creation can refuse death when his or her time has come. You can't blame me, or Lawhiney, or anyone else for my being taken. It was just time for you to go it alone. That's all."

"I'm not talking about death, I'm talking about HER!" Gadget pointed her finger accusingly at Lawhiney.

Geegaw blinked rapidly. He had opened his mouth to tell Gadget she was crazy before he realised the effect that would have on Lawhiney.

"I waited a whole year! I was alone! You never came back. Not even to tell me you were dead." Gadget's voice was shaking. She dissolved into tears again. "Not even when I was locked up in that terrible place and I thought I was going to die or go crazy there. You didn't come. No one did. But you showed up for HER! The entire time! I wouldn't have cared where I was if I could just have had that! That was MY time!"

Geegaw looked awful. He wanted to tell Gadget that he was just doing his job but he couldn't. Even if Lawhiney hadn't been listening, he couldn't lie to Gadget. Shamefaced and ashen he looked away, shaking his head.

"HEY!" Lawhiney bawled. "You had what, eighteen years with him? I had just as much right to him and I only met him for the first time when he was already dead!"

"YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO HIM! He is MY father! NOT YOURS!"

"You don't know that! You heard what he said! Geegaw, are you? Are you really?" Lawhiney looked at him with huge, pleading eyes.

Geegaw looked at Lawhiney and saw a terrible longing that bordered on love. He knew he was going to break hearts tonight and that his own might be amongst them. Wincing, he searched for the right thing to say.

"Ah, well now… you see, it's – uh – like this. The world's a very complicated place, you know, when you've travelled it as much as I have you'll see that…" Geegaw blinked. Gadget and Lawhiney were both staring at him. The disturbing thing was that they both had the same expression and Geegaw recognised it. It was the same expression Gadget's mother had worn just before she threw something at him for giving her nearly the exact same speech.

He shrugged and faced up to it.

"I guess if it was anyone else asking I'd tell them it was none of their business but I can't now. Where a person comes from is too important. Even so, I'm not going to tell the whole story either because… well, dang it! They aren't the kind of details I can talk about in front of you two!" Geegaw flushed.

The girls looked at him. Geegaw knew instantly that he'd better get to the point, whether they could lay hands on him or not.

"It's like this. Your mothers were sisters. I met them both at the same time when my airplane crashed near their farm. I broke my leg and after the farm mice were done salvaging the mailbags I was carrying and hiding my plane, they carried me to your grandparent's home to recuperate. They set my leg on the dining room table and, just as I passed out, the door opened. There were two of the most beautiful girls I had ever seen.

"Lawhiney, your mother was the older sister. She was a great beauty. Bold, confident and experienced, she was exactly the type of girl I was used to.

"Gadget, your mother was the younger sister. She was something of a tomboy and already a dab hand at repairing farm machinery. It took me a little while to figure her out. " Geegaw smiled fondly. "They both wanted to romance me but for rather different reasons. Lawhiney, your mother saw me as another feather in her cap. Their little community didn't get many visitors, so I was quite the celebrity at the time. But Gadget, your mother genuinely wanted to be with me."

"What happened?" Lawhiney demanded.

Geegaw sighed and hung his head. "I didn't know there was a competition between the sisters then. I only found out later. Gadget's mother did most of the work to look after me until my leg healed, while her sister took most of the credit. When my leg was healed, big sister didn't waste any time making it plain how she felt about me and, well, I wasn't complaining.

"I guess you could say you take after your mother Gadget. She had trouble letting people know how she felt for fear of hurting their feelings. It didn't help that someone had given her the idea that men didn't like smart women…"

Gadget glared at Lawhiney who, this time at least, managed to refrain from saying anything that might get her killed.

"When someone doesn't know how to tell a person how they feel, they sometimes find it easier to show them. I think that was why your mother rebuilt my plane Gadget, but her sister was furious. She was certain that her little sister had done it so that I would leave before she could win their competition."

"Wait, before you and she…?" Lawhiney looked as though the script she had prepared in her mind had suddenly been derailed.

"Before she could say I had chosen her over Gadget's mother." Geegaw said firmly. "I still had the mail to deliver, so I left. I never expected to see either of them again but three years later I landed at a small airfield and there she was, bent over an aeroplane engine."

"You fell in love?" Gadget asked.

"Looking back, I think I already was. I think I had been since she fixed my plane. Her sister wanted to keep me on the ground but your mother loved me enough to let me go. But you don't get much time for a relationship when your job is nothing but travelling from one place to another. We snatched a meal here, a cup of coffee there, but for a long time it seemed that we would never be anything more than just good friends. You know how that feels, don't you, Gadget?"

Gadget blinked. It took her a moment, but she knew exactly what Geegaw was talking about. "Yes. I do."

"Just as it looked like our romance was finally going somewhere… Lawhiney's mother blew into town like a hurricane. She was looking for trouble and she had a score to settle. And the first I knew of it was when I knocked on your mother's door and the wrong sister opened it. I'd been out of the country for two months and it nearly knocked me flat, I can tell you."

"What happened?" Lawhiney asked plaintively.

"She was as sweet as honey and she pretended the past was buried and forgotten but… she was working to split me and Gadget's mother up from the moment she arrived. All I knew was that the girl I loved suddenly didn't trust me any more. I began to think that her work was more important to her than I was. I even started to believe that a relationship with me would be a terrible mistake for her, that I would be holding her back if I didn't give her the same kind of freedom she had given me."

"From where I'm sitting, it looks like mom was dead right not to trust you!" Gadget yelled at him.

"Ah, honey, it wasn't like that. I took a job; a dangerous job that meant I had to go far away. I nearly died. Before I went I told your mother that I loved her very much but that I thought we were better off without each other. I told her that when it was over, I'd come back and perhaps our lives would be different enough that it would make sense for us to get back together, if we wanted to." Geegaw shook his head sadly at the girls. "Never fool yourself into thinking you can be rational about love."

There was a brief pause as the girls digested the information. Finally, Lawhiney arched an eyebrow at him. "You said you weren't going to tell us the whole story. I can't imagine what you're leaving out!"

Geegaw glared at her. "After the last three months, I know you're PERFECTLY capable of imagining what I'm leaving out!"

"You're in no position to criticise her… Daddy." Gadget pointed out. Her voice was tired, drawn and reproachful.

Geegaw blinked at her in surprise. What surprised him most was that his heart lifted at her words. Gadget was accepting his story and, with it, Lawhiney.

"What happened next?" Lawhiney asked.

"I couldn't stop thinking about Gadget's mother on the journey out. It was driving me crazy. Finally we arrived and almost immediately the mission went to pieces on us. What we were supposed to be doing doesn't much matter, I guess, because we never made a start on it. We were cut off from the outside world for months until finally, I alone was rescued. While I was in hospital, the Doctors surprised me with the news that I had been declared dead while I was missing. It took weeks for me to recover but when I did the first thing I did was visit the girl I loved."

Lawhiney's ears were hanging low enough to touch her shoulders. "You don't mean my mother, do you?"

Geegaw sighed. "No, but that was who I met instead. She invited me into the home they had shared and showed me a letter from Gadget's mother. It was very sweet and very loving. And it said goodbye. After reading it, I had no hope it was anything but final."

"I'm sorry." Gadget said, as if consoling a stranger.

"Lawhiney's mother was very comforting. I had to stay in hotel after I was released from hospital. She helped me look and find somewhere and helped me to settle in. She was very beautiful and very charming when she wanted to be. I found an easy job to pay the bills until I was fully recovered and before very long… Lawhiney's mother and I became an item, yes."

The pause that followed could only be described as pregnant.

"A summer went by before I felt my old self again, cheerful and healthy. Then one day quite suddenly, I was on my way to meet her for lunch and Gadget's mother saw me from a distance. She followed me and stopped me just outside the restaurant where we were going to have lunch. I wasn't pleased to see her but she was AMAZED to see me. You see, she still thought I was dead."

"What? But surely her sister…?" Gadget trailed off as she remembered whose mother they were talking about.

"I was still pretty sore at her. The thought of getting back together with her was all that had kept me going through the bad time and the hospital, so that letter of hers broke my heart a little. I told her I was going to meet her sister for lunch and she asked if she could come along. I was a little reluctant but she insisted. It turned out she had a hidden motive. You see, even though her big sister knew how she felt and saw her regularly, Lawhiney's mother hadn't told her I was alive."

Lawhiney winced.

"As you can imagine, your mother was furious, Gadget. But your mother, Lawhiney, well… _SHE_ knew when the game was up." There was no doubt from his tone that Geegaw was implying someone else did not. "She simply stood up, shrugged her shoulders and said: You can have him. I've already got what I wanted from him."

"I'm amazed Gadget was ever born." Lawhiney said dryly.

Geegaw didn't answer. He wasn't sure whether she was commenting on the length of his account or the damage her own mother had inflicted.

"Why did my mother give up so easily? I mean if Gadget's mom, I guess I should start calling her Aunt Hackwrench or something, wrote that letter so it's not like mom was claim-jumping or anything."

Geegaw appealed to the sky above. "Claim-jumping, she calls it! Like I wasn't even an animate object, just a badge or a trophy or something!" He shook his finger in Lawhiney's face. "I tell you, it wasn't until I met your mother that I understood why some women hate the way men compete for them! As if they don't have a say in the matter. With your experience, you ought to understand how that feels, Lawhiney."

"I know how it feels." Gadget said quietly.

Lawhiney looked sideways at her and for the first time a look of sympathy crossed her face for someone other than herself.

"For your information, Law, Gadget's mother wrote that letter when she thought I was dead. There wasn't even a memorial service because I didn't have any next of kin and, obviously, there was no body so there couldn't be a grave for her to mourn at." Geegaw's face became pained. "It can be very difficult when someone is in that situation. It's like someone just walked out a door and never came back. They just left all the threads of their lives hanging, waiting so they can come back and pick them up again. Only they never will.

"I was in that situation after Gadget's mother… died. Even though I know she's waiting for me, it's still painful. She didn't have a way to grieve properly for me then, so she wrote me a letter to say goodbye. The letter sounded final because, well, she thought it was. Her big sister encouraged her to write it and then, when I showed up unexpectedly, saw an opportunity."

Geegaw's eyes locked with Lawhiney's for a moment. He was bristling with anger at the memory. She looked back at him steadily. After a while she said in a steady voice, "Well, I suppose it's no worse than anything I've done."

"She had her reasons." Geegaw sighed, eventually.

"DAD! How can you say that?" Gadget was appalled.

"It was a long time before I found out, Gadget, but what Lawhiney's mother really wanted out of me was Lawhiney. I didn't know it at the time, but she was already married when she arrived in our city. She had made a good match to the fella who ran the local bank and, so far as I know, they're still married. There was only one thing Lawhiney's mother didn't have that she thought she needed to make her life complete."

"Me." Lawhiney guessed.

"You." Geegaw confirmed. "And that was the one thing her husband couldn't give her." Geegaw knelt besides Lawhiney and smiled sadly at her. "You see, even if I'd tried to do the honourable thing by her, she wouldn't have wanted me."

"She just wanted an accessory. Something to show off to her friends, so she could compete." Lawhiney grumbled.

"Dad, I don't understand. How did you and mother get back together after all the damage Lawhiney's mom did?"

Geegaw laughed. "When she saw the trick that had been played, your mother wasn't inclined to let her sister walk away as easy as that! She threw a raspberry Pavlova the size of your head at her and they ended up fighting in the wreckage of the desert trolley. I think they roughhoused a lot when they were growing up on the farm together but of course, this time they weren't on the farm. Your mother and I patched up a lot of our differences when I bailed her out of jail."

"MOMMY went to JAIL!" Gadget's eyes nearly popped out of her head.

"Yes, but not to prison, like you. That's actually a first for our family." Geegaw told her, hoping that both he and Gadget's mother could maintain some kind of moral high ground with this distinction.

"Yeah, stop letting the family down, Gadget!" Lawhiney snickered evilly.

Gadget looked put upon and furious at the same time. "I went to PRISON because of all the things YOU DID!"

"Yeah, but I never got caught!" Lawhiney returned with a breezy smile.

Before they could come to blows again, Geegaw interrupted. "I hate to mention it girls but, speaking of prison…"

The girls looked at him, sorrowfully.

"If we do this by the book, we're both going to get locked up." Gadget said. "I've broken at least four known criminals out of lawful custody, five counting myself, assaulted a guard – assuming they don't try to make attempted murder out of it – and I dare say there'll be other charges, like conspiracy and destruction of prison property and Lord-knows-what-else. Ratigan tried to convince me it was all okay but it's not, is it?"

Geegaw rolled his eyes skyward and sucked air through his teeth. "All good people have a duty to fight injustice when they see it, even if they are the ones the injustice is happening to. But they also have a duty to the truth which, when you get right down to it, is just recognising reality for what it is. You don't lie for the same reason you don't try to cross a bridge that isn't there. You wouldn't do it and you don't ask someone else to do it either."

Sighing deeply, Geegaw sat on a clump of moss in front of his two daughters. "I don't know the four people you broke out of prison with tonight but I think they have their own journey in front of them. You two have a journey of your own. At some point, you're both going to have to stand up and tell what happened to you. Some of it you can be discreet about. Like the parts with me and Ratigan, for instance but the rest, like how your trial was a complete sham, Gadget, or how you hit Dale over the head with that wrench, Lawhiney, well… if you don't tell those truths other people will suffer for it and that will be your fault."

Geegaw let them digest this perhaps unwelcome thought before he gave them something else to think about. "Of course, all of this is in the long term. You have to get through the night, first."

Gadget looked at him. She looked haunted and Geegaw had to admit, he himself was haunting her.

"Tell me more about mother, dad?" Gadget begged him.

"I can't." Geegaw replied sadly and got to his feet. "I have to go back now."

Gadget jumped up. "You can't stay a little while longer?"

"Only long enough to say I love you. Both of you. There's somewhere I should have been a long time ago, sweetheart, and I can't stay any longer or I might not be able to get back to your mother at all. I'm afraid the two of you are going to be on your own for a while and, I dare say they won't let you see me if I get to come back, Gadget." Geegaw had begun to fade.

Gadget looked as if she would start crying again, if she could only find the energy. "So this is goodbye, then?"

Geegaw's answer floated on the breeze. "For now, Gadget, only for now."

Lawhiney and Gadget both stared forlornly at the empty space where their father had been.

It was Lawhiney who asked the question.

"What do we do now?"


	30. Dale the Guide

_**Disclaimer**_

In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone… except a certain kind of lawyer.

**Chapter Thirty**

**Dale the Guide **

211

Like some fantastic mythological beast that only a human could have dreamed up, the committee had five heads, nine legs, eight arms, two wings and ten eyes. Its full title was "The Celestial Committee for Spiritual Guide Performance Review" and the part Dale and Basil were about to meet were actually just the subdivision for Guides with surnames that began with the letters "Ha" to "He".

The chair mouse was a rotund female mouse who looked to be slightly past middle age. She had white hair and white fur and two of the palest blue eyes that Dale had ever seen anywhere and sat in a slightly larger chair in the middle. It was as if she had become chairperson simply because the committee would have looked lopsided if she sat anywhere but in the centre.

The committee's wings and its only peg-leg belonged to Fidget the bat who was sitting at the end of the table with his feet, or rather foot, up on the table while he puffed on a large, sulphurous cigar.

Dale was still feeling slightly uncomfortable, despite Basil's assurances that he couldn't possibly get into trouble for this, so long as he didn't say anything. It was a rather sizable rider that Basil had added at the last moment, just as he was pushing Dale through the door, but Dale would have worried anyway. His nose was twitching. Something about the afterlife didn't smell right. It took him a moment to trace the smell to the cigar being smoked by the bat with the tattered wing.

Dale instinctively disliked the bat. There was something about him that seemed familiar. When Dale got it, he had to choke off a laugh. He was looking at the bat out of hell.

The plump mouse looked up in surprise. She peered at Basil over gold frames of her half moon spectacles and smiled. "Basil of Baker Street!"

"The very same! But I haven't lived in Baker Street for some time, I'm afraid." Basil smiled in return.

"It's a pleasure to see you again after all this time, but-" the Chair-mouse frowned at the thick sheath of papers in front of her "-I don't see your name anywhere on the paperwork for this case…"

"I think you'll find me listed as a temporary supervisor to the Probationary Guide assigned to the young lady named on the cover." Basil pointed out.

The Chair-mouse began to turn pages with a puzzled frown. Other members of the board were taking an interest and showing equal confusion.

"Basil, this can't be right. I didn't know that you had even been a Guide, let alone an instructor! You have to be both before you can be a supervisor!"

"I am a Consulting Guide, Madam Chair-mouse, just as I was a Consulting Detective and if you look closely you will note that I have been an instructor at the Guide Academy for many years."

"On an ad-hoc basis, it says here."

"It adds up to far more than the necessary time, however."

"It's still very irregular."

"Quite so, but it's temporary and Mister Geegaw Hackwrench is under my supervision."

Madam Chair-mouse blinked. "Er, have you been supervising Mister Hackwrench _closely_?"

"As needed, Madam Chair-mouse." Basil replied dryly. "Might I ask the background of this hearing? I was only told when and where it was going to be held. At rather short notice, I might add."

"This tribunal has been called because a number of serious concerns have been raised regarding Mister Geegaw's conduct in this case."

"By whom?"

Madam Chair-mouse had the grace to look embarrassed. "The concerns have been raised by the, um, observer from the _other side_."

Basil continued smiling at the Chair-mouse a moment longer then allowed his face to drift towards the bat, as though noticing him for the first time. "Ah, yes." Basil said, as though he had just smelt something nasty. "Montague Fidget. I believe I have some experience with you."

"Believe?" Fidget drew the word out in his smoker's rasp until it sounded like two words. He cackled. "You have some experience of chasing me all over London. Never caught up with me though. I led you a merry dance."

"Until your boss threw you into the river Thames from a great height, as I recall."

Fidget laughed. "He works for me now!"

Basil's eyes narrowed. "So it's true? I had heard rumours to that effect. I would have expected the rise, or should I say fall, of someone like Ratigan into the netherworld's higher ranks would be nothing short of meteoric."

"All the big noises upstairs make the same mistake. They come downstairs and you're right, their arrival is… _meteoric_." Fidget twirled his cigar and smiled. "Then when they finally pick themselves up they think they're still a big noise. Then they find out they got to start again from scratch, only this time around everyone else knows the same tricks they do on account of how if they didn't, they probably wouldn't be allowed _in_ downstairs. Me, I was always a-" Fidget twirled his cigar again as he searched for the right word "-follower, you might say. So I found it easier to make a new start." Fidget threw back his head and laughed. "Ratigan! He's always got to be the boss. That don't play too well downstairs."

"Yes." Basil said carefully. "I can imagine."

This time Fidget's laugh was a belly laugh. When he was done he looked directly at Basil with his beady yellow eyes. "No. You can't."

The Chair-mouse banged her water glass against the table, twice. "Gentlemen, I'm sure these-" she pronounced the next word with exaggerated care "-_pleasant_ reminiscences and I would like to proceed."

"Forgive me, Madam Chair-mouse. I haven't seen Mister Fidget in a very long time and I have to say, I can't remember the last time my earthly adventures seemed so clear and recent in my mind. Why, it seems like only yesterday Doctor Dawson brought that poor little girl to my consulting rooms in Baker Street and asked me to assist her in finding her lost father. A father kidnapped by the very bat I see here today, in fact..."

All eyes turned questioningly to Fidget. The bat's own yellow eyes flicked towards the rest of the committee members like a snake's tongue. If he was uncomfortable, he hid it well. He took a long draw on the cigar and reclined in his chair, watching the smoke form horrid patterns in the air.

"Ah, I don't think anyone here was under the impression I was a good little boy. I don't care what you tell them, Mister Detective." He used his bad wing to sweep away the smoke and the ugly shapes it suggested.

"Why, thank you, Mister Fidget. Since you've given your permission it would be positively churlish of me not to finish the story…" Basil smiled charmingly.

"But…" Started the Chair-mouse.

"It was in the winter of the Queen's Diamond Jubilee, well over a hundred years ago…" And without waiting for any further interruption, Basil proceeded to tell the whole story of how he had met Doctor Dawson and become the most famous detective in all mousedom. He even drew up a chair to tell it and lit his pipe. No one objected, since the sliver white clouds of smoke from Basil's tobacco smelt of sandlewood and fresh rain and at once began to wage war on the sulphurous charcoal-black fumes from Fidget's cigar.

Basil was a master storyteller and Dale listened with rapt attention. His mind only wandered at the middle of the story, when he noticed the tableau forming out of silver and black smoke over the heads of the listeners. It looked like two armies, one of silver and white with wings and lances, the other of black and yellow with horns and clubs. The armies were not fighting, not yet. There was a clear open space between them but it seemed at any moment both sides would charge.

Basil's story went on but Dale couldn't take his eyes from the smoke circling the ceiling of the room. Two smaller puffs of smoke rose towards the centre of the tableau, half way between the two armies. To Dale's imaginative eye, they looked like the figures of tiny mice with long hair. The two figures seemed to battle with each other in slow motion as Basil's story unwound until finally the figure made of dark smoke fell.

Basil was telling of a mighty battle of his own, one fought at the top of Big Ben over a hundred years ago. Dale listened with half an ear; engrossed by the almost recognizable smoke-figures that were now so tangled with each other that both were a dirty grey. One of the figures, it was now nearly impossible to tell which side it had started on, seemed to finally have the upper hand and stood poised to strike.

As Big Ben chimed the end of Basil's adventure Dale watched the victorious figure, some of its former silver brilliance regained, help its fallen enemy to stand. Dale was so enraptured he almost didn't hear the end of the story, with Basil's triumphant return from the abyss and what seemed certain death.

The doors to the room burst open, cutting Basil's happily ever after adrift in mid-sentence.

"Professor Ratigan!" Basil announced the arrival of the chief villain from his story in amazement.

The professor was halfway into the room before he chose to acknowledge his old enemy.

"Basil!" he purred. "How nice to see you haven't _completely_ deserted me. I quite thought I'd gotten rid of you for good."

"I'm here strictly by coincidence." Basil warned. "Your erstwhile assistant chose to convene a special tribunal into the doings of my protégé, a circumstance that demanded my presence."

"Where some see coincidence, others see design." Ratigan replied as though quoting, possibly from Basil himself, judging by the way the mouse-detective bristled.

"Mister Basil!" Thundered the Chair-mouse. "What is this person doing here? I take it he is the individual from your entertaining but wholly unnecessary story?"

Basil winced. "Madam Chair-mouse, I assure you that he is indeed the same individual of which I was speaking and that I had no idea that he was coming here."

"Mister Ratigan…" Fidget began.

"PROFESSOR!" Roared the rat.

"MISTER RATIGAN!" Fidget yelled back in his rasping voice. The pair glared at each other. Fidget won the contest.

"Well?" Enquired the Chair-mouse into the silence that followed.

"Mister Ratigan is the Advocate assigned to the case under review." Fidget explained in a more reasonable tone.

"I see. You did have reason to suspect that Mister Ratigan would be here then, Mister Basil?"

"On the contrary, I had reason to believe he would be occupied elsewhere specifically BECAUSE Mister Fidget had called this special Tribunal." Basil defended himself.

"You weren't trying to bias the tribunal in any way?"

"Oh no, of course not. It just happened to be the first story that came to mind and, I might add, the only one Mister Fidget had given me permission to tell." Basil said, truthfully. He smiled at Fidget without much hope the bat would accept it.

Fidget, disturbingly, smiled back. "Eh-heh-heh. And just why were you so keen to tell that old story?"

Basil gave him a cold smile. "I couldn't think of a better way to kill time."

The bat chuckled again. "Kill time. Eh-heh-heh. Just why is it you would feel the need…"

A small figure slipped in though the door to the infinite hallway. It tried to stay hidden behind Basil and the Professor but Fidget had made too many similar entrances and exits himself to miss it.

"Of course." Fidget growled. "Mister Basil, you haven't introduced your, ah-ha, companion."

Basil glanced worriedly at Dale. "My companion? Just whom are you referring to?"

The Chair-mouse replaced her gold half-moon spectacles to peer at Dale. "Why, it's quite obvious who the Observer from Elsewhere is referring to the person standing next to you. But I should have thought it quite obvious that this is Mister Hackwrench."

Fidget gave an ugly laugh. "Is that who it is, Mister Basil? Is that Mister Hackwrench wrapped up in all those robes?"

Dale gulped and tried to hide deeper in the monk's habit that Geegaw had given him to wear. Beside him, Basil winced.

The Chair-mouse frowned at him. "Mister Basil?"

"Ah-ha. The thing is… that is to say… not to put too finer point on it…" Basil squirmed uncomfortably. The penalty for telling a lie, particularly in these circumstances, could be drastic.

"Mister Basil? If this is Mister Hackwrench, who is that standing behind you?" The Chair-mouse, either by accident or design, saved Basil from what might have become an embarrassing mistake.

Basil looked and found himself standing elbow to chin with Geegaw. He stared into Geegaw's face for a moment, trying to deduce the outcome of the probationary guide's mission. Then Basil turned away, giving no outward sign of relief or dismay. He placed a paw on Geegaw's shoulder and ushered him forward.

"Madam Chair-mouse, this is Geegaw Hackwrench."

The Chair-mouse stared at Basil, not at Geegaw. Her nose twitched in disapproval. "If that is Mister Hackwrench, who is that wearing Mister Hackwrench's robes?"

Dale gulped. He drew the hood of the robe back. This would be where he got into trouble.

Basil smiled his most charming smile. "Allow me to present Mister Dale Oakmont. A young fellow who can provide valuable testimony relating to the case in hand and who I was fortunate enough to find in the waiting room."

"I see. And just what is he wearing Mister Hackwrench's robes for?"

Basil smiled hopefully at Dale and silently prayed that the chipmunk hadn't forgotten the exact words he had be told to use.

Dale looked back like a first grader looking at teacher at his first school play. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I am thinking about not going back and that means I might become a guide someday and I like playing dress-up. Mister Hackwrench was kind enough to let me try on his robes, since we are about the same size."

Dale sounded as wooden as the tree he lived in but there wasn't an untrue word in what he had said.

The Chair-mouse stared at him for a moment, as if she were waiting for lightening to strike. Quite possibly she was and even when it didn't she remained sceptical. "Really? Well, we have an Official tribunal under way here, so if you'd be so kind as to return Mister Hackwrench's Official robes – for the time being – perhaps we might finally get under way?"

Dale blushed and undressed in public. He was wearing a white version of his normal Hawaiian shirt underneath but there was still something uncomfortable about it. The robes had been a shield and a hiding place of sorts.

Geegaw took the robes and with a sigh, donned them for what was probably the last time.

"Oh, come on! You aren't going to let them pull the wool over your eyes, are you?" Fidget snarled.

The Chair-mouse arched an eyebrow at Fidget and said, with a significant look in Basil's direction: "I can assure you, Mister Fidget, NO ONE has pulled the wool over my eyes."

"Your observers would have something to say about it if we pulled something like this in one of our tribunals!"

"I have been an observer at your tribunals, which, I have to say, more closely resembled witch hunts or lynch mobs. And from what I have observed, your side can be depended on to pull something every single time. Not that it makes any difference where you come from, of course, since your side seems to be incapable of bringing in a not-guilty verdict even for their own side. Now, unless someone has any further delays for us…" Madam Chair-mouse looked over her spectacles at Basil again. "…we will proceed. Take your place, Mister Hackwrench."

Geegaw did so, his head hanging and shoulders bowed.

"Now, several grievous charges have been laid at your door, my young sir. They are, specifically, that you have aided and abetted your charge in her continued wrongdoing rather and that you undercut a competitor by tendering a lower offer for a service that had already been agreed in principal. In both instances you trespassed on the duties and responsibilities of the Advocate for the Opposing Side, rendering him redundant, and simultaneously breached the Guide's Service's Code of Conduct."

"The Advocate for the Opposing Side was almost entirely absent during my entire assignment. I would like to know where he was during that time!" Geegaw shot back, careful to keep his accusatory tone aimed at the rat and not the Chair-mouse.

"This is not a direct answer to the complaint that has been laid against you." Madam Chair-mouse pointed out. "If you wish to report wrong-doing by the Advocate for the Opposing Side, then you may do so after this tribunal is concluded. Until then there can be no question of making an accusation against the professor." The Chair-mouse pointed out, patiently. "No doubt his superiors will take note of his absence from his assigned duties and investigate accordingly." She shot a look at Fidget, sceptically.

Geegaw, hearing and understanding perfectly, made the accusation anyway. "I believe THAT RAT used the opportunity to walk the earth, given to him for the purpose of teaching my charge the difference between right and wrong, to drum up unsolicited trade like a door to door salesman!"

All eyes turned to Ratigan, who shrugged at them, his expression neutral.

"Mister Ratigan, is there any truth in the suggestion-" Began Madam Chair-mouse.

"HEY! That was no suggestion! That was an accusation and you just said he couldn't make one!" Fidget rose angrily. "I want it stricken from the record. I want an apology! I want-"

"-IN THE SUGGESTION Mister Hackwrench just made?" The Chair-mouse overruled his objections.

Ratigan coughed politely. "The man is distressed. Over-wrought. He's making wild accusations without a shred of knowledge or evidence to support them."

"None of which, I note is an actual denial." Madam Chair-mouse replied. "Mister Hackwrench, I have to ask you to address yourself to the accusations that have been made against YOU."

"I take it the accusation that I undercut him by offering a cheaper tender for services concerns my healing Lawhiney's leg?"

"It does. As you know, we cannot allow the battle between good and evil to be reduced to an auction for mortal souls."

"In order to offer a lower tender I would have to know exactly what price he intended to extract from Lawhiney. At the time I was under the impression Lawhiney herself didn't know what that was and I was not present when Ratigan made that approach. Moreover, I believe that the suggestion that I offered a lower tender implies that I negotiated some fee for healing her. I did not. I healed her without anything in exchange."

"But did you do it because she had agreed to trade with the Advocate?"

Geegaw licked his lips. He had to think quickly because a wrong word here wouldn't merely end his career but possibly destroy any hope for Lawhiney's future. "Lawhiney had not agreed to trade with the Advocate, she only specified that she would if her leg did not improve in the near future."

"A hair-splitter's difference." Fidget snorted.

"But it is a difference." Geegaw took what he could get.

"Indeed." Madam Chair-mouse gave the slightest nod of her head. "The loophole left by Miss Lawhiney is valid. I'd even go so far as to say it was… obvious."

Fidget inhaled deeply, causing the remains of his cigar to crumble to ash.

Ratigan laughed politely. "And the little matter of him healing the young lady's leg so she could flee the consequences of her actions?"

Madam Chair-mouse looked from Ratigan to Geegaw. She cleared her throat with difficulty. "Mister Geegaw, can you truly say that you assisted your charge's recovery by, er, assisting her recovery?"

Geegaw lifted an eyebrow. "You mean did fixing her leg help get her back on the right path? It's too early to really say. It did give her a little more time to consider her course and-" Geegaw swallowed hard and made a leap of faith "-I believe in her."

Madam Chair-mouse and the other board members looked at him sceptically.

Then, very slowly, Madam Chair-mouse began to smile.

"Oh, come on!" Ratigan yelled.

"There is precedent for improving an individual's health long enough for them to effect a change in the lives. It is, in fact, the whole basis of the Guide and Advocacy programmes." The Chair-mouse pointed out.

Fidget was having none of it. "Whether he believes in her or not doesn't enter into it! He healed her leg so she could run!"

"Her leg was still in a plaster cast! She couldn't run anywhere!"

"Not then! But later, when the cast had been removed!" Ratigan growled.

"If someone hadn't healed her leg so she could run, she couldn't have run into Gadget in the forest tonight and that's exactly what you wanted all along, isn't it? The whole time you were absent from the case you were supposed to be working on you were watching my daughter, Gadget, and trying to seduce her into abandoning every good thing she believes in!"

"Is this true?" Asked the Chair-mouse wearily.

Geegaw couldn't stop himself. He was like a runaway freight train with no breaks. "And that was just the ground work! You were working your way round to steering Gadget and Lawhiney into a head on collision the whole time because you thought you could engineer Gadget into killing her sister. BAM! You would have had both of them in one night! Lawhiney for her old mistakes and Gadget for the brand new ones that you helped her to make!"

Ratigan lit a cigarette and blew a smoke ring before answering. The silence grew around him until he had to speak. "I wouldn't call the murder of her pregnant sister a mistake."

Nearly everyone's face registered shock at the elegant rat's casual words.

"Sounds pretty damning." Geegaw agreed. "But it would carry more weight if she had actually gone through with it. You brought her to the edge, close enough to look over and see how far she had to fall. She knows she's got the capacity for murder in her now, just like everyone else, but she didn't actually kill."

"Her strength failed her." Ratigan growled. "Her intent was murder."

"Enough!" Madam Chair-mouse looked outraged. "To abuse your license to walk the earth in such a way! There must be a thorough investigation and quite possibly a formal complaint!"

Fidget and Ratigan rolled their eyes. They noticeably failed to be overwhelmed.

"Until that investigation is complete, this enquiry into Mister Hackwrench's conduct in this case must be shelved."

"What's that?" Fidget started. "You can't be serious."

"I am completely serious. There can be no question of the board reaching a conclusion in this case without all the facts and, since these accusations call the very purpose of the Guidance and Advocacy Programme into grave doubt, those facts can only be investigated by a higher authority."

"But that will take…"

"Quite possibly the remainder of Lawhiney and Gadget's lives, given the speed at which such authorities move, the level of cooperation between your side and ours, and the Hackwrench family trait of being drawn to dangerous situations." Madam Chair-mouse promised. "In the meantime I will be returning Mister Hackwrench to his former duties. With a strict warning to be on his best behaviour, of course."

Fidget lit another cigar and put his feet back up on the table. He was trying to pretend that he didn't care but he bit the end off the cigar with unusual vigour before he spoke. "I shall be doing the same with Mister Ratigan."

"Then we're adjourned." The Chair-mouse said.

"IS THAT IT?" Yelled Geegaw. "They tried to make my daughters KILL EACH OTHER and that's IT?"

"MISTER HACKWRENCH!" Thundered the Chair-mouse. "I would say you and the rest of your family have been extremely fortunate. I suggest you curb your temper and prepare for your return to duty."

With that, the Chair-mouse stood and collected her papers and walked out of the room with the rest of the board members trailing behind her like ducklings behind a mother duck.

Dale looked earnestly at Basil. "We can beat them up now, right?"

"Too RIGHT!" Geegaw yelled, advancing on Ratigan with a look of fury.

Basil's outstretched arm stopped him.

"What?" Geegaw demanded.

"No." Basil said firmly. "There are strict rules about that. Representatives of the powers of good and evil cannot fight each other in person. That would be a breach of the truce that allows the mortal world to exist. Only the living can fight for good or evil, because they are the only ones who are not yet committed to one side or the other."

"That darn truce." Ratigan purred. "Of course, there is also the small detail that we'd wipe the floor with you."

Basil's eyes went to the clear inch and a half difference between him and Ratigan and his lips twitched convulsively.

Fidget stood up and stretched. "Well, I'd say that it's been a pleasure seeing you again, Basil, but it's not like I'm behind on my quotas for lying."

"Fidget, no one can have enjoyed this more than I and, as always, dealing with you has been a vile, odious, disgusting experience." Basil replied in the most courteous tones possible.

"Better luck next time, old boy." Fidget laughed.

Basil looked nonplussed. "Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit."

"Oh, no sarcasm. I'm completely sincere."

"That's very sporting of you." A puzzled Basil said eventually.

"It's just I was talking to Ratigan." Fidget smirked. "Come on, Ratty! Don't dawdle."

Ratigan followed Fidget to the door, paused on the threshold, and then turned with a devastatingly sarcastic goodbye to Basil curling his lip.

No one got to hear it, because at that point Dale hit him in the face with a chair.

212

Sunrise over the city after the big rainstorm was beautiful. The slick, wet buildings looked shiny and new like a brand new car in a dealer's showroom, as if all prior sins had been washed clean and forgiven. A rainbow hung over city-park like a promise that the bad times would never come again. Like all promises, it lasted only as long as the rainbow.

Gadget made her way up the spiral staircase that wound around the Ranger's tree in city-park. This had been her home for six years. The mileage felt a little longer but she had left a lot of life unlived in that time. In spite of the burning she felt in every part of her body she ran up the stairs that had made her so dizzy the first time she used them.

This was her homecoming. This was her triumphant return, after all foes that stood against her had been vanquished.

When she reached the old door at the top of the staircase she ran into it like an old friend. It swung open under her weight like a dance partner and she spun into her old home like she was a child on the first day of the school holidays.

It was empty. She had imagined everyone standing there, waiting for her return, of course. That was silly and childish. They would be doing their normal morning things, making coffee and sleeping in.

Gadget danced on the spot with her hands over her mouth like a teenage girl who couldn't wait to break the news of who had invited her to the school prom. The suspense was unbearable. Who would be the first one to notice she was back, to look into her eyes and see the difference, to see the truth waiting there.

No one entered the room.

Gadget couldn't contain herself any longer.

"Hey, guys! Monty! Chip? Dale? Zipper?"

No one called back. Gadget began to frown. Of course, she thought, they must have been called out for a rescue. Or they're searching for me because Lawhiney disappeared on them last night. Well, she won't be causing them any more trouble now.

Gadget turned to close the door and it was only then she saw the sign that had been pinned halfway up.

Sweeper Investigation Unit.

Crime Scene.

Do Not Enter."

She took the sign from the door with shaking hands, her smile and excitement at finally coming home vanishing like the memory of a dream on waking. She kept rereading it again and again in the hope the words would mean something different.

They didn't.

Gadget was still staring at the piece of card, shaking her head, when the voice came from behind her.

"You know, when the sign says do not enter, we really mean it."

Gadget jumped like a startled cat. The voice was deep and warm and it's tone was more tired than angry, but Gadget was ready to run or fight like a wild animal.

Standing in the doorway behind her was a brown rat in a cheap blue jacket and shirt that had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. After spending years around Chip, Gadget knew instinctively that he was a detective.

"Am I going to be arrested for entering my own home?" Gadget asked quickly. After everything she had been through it seemed almost natural.

"We generally allow people who live in a place back in to get their things, under supervision, of course." The rat smiled generously.

"And after that?"

The rat shook his head. He didn't seem to understand. "After that?"

"Where do they go?"

The rat shrugged. "That's up to them. You have to commit a crime before we provide accommodation."

"Oh really?" Gadget replied arching her voice to match the eyebrow she lifted. "I don't think that's true of everyone you lock away."

The rat smiled, more to himself than her. "A lot of people have trouble believing someone close to them has done wrong, maybe something terrible. I know, it takes time for them to accept the truth. Sometimes they never do. But for the most part they finally take a long hard look at reality and move on with their lives."

Gadget opened her mouth to tell him off for being patronising and then realised she didn't have the faintest clue what he was talking about. She closed her mouth and considered her options for a full second before shaping her lips around a single, simple word.

"Who?"

213

"Who?" Detective Doyle repeated, feeling a little shaken. He had been ready for a lot of different possibilities, such as finding Gadget in another trash sack, or listening to her tearful confession to the crime Chip Maplewood was sitting in a jail cell for but her stark, simple ignorance of the crime that had been committed was something he was unprepared for.

"Who? Interrogative pronoun. Originally Middle-English from the Old English word 'hwA', which was related to the Old High German 'hwer'. As in: Who the heck are you talking about? Who's done something terrible?" Gadget boiled over, her long night only technically ended by the rising sun.

"There's no reason to shout. For a moment I thought that you were asking who I am." Doyle replied gently but firmly.

"That would be a good place to start."

"I'm Detective James Doyle of Street Watch East Precinct, assigned to the Oakmont case."

"The Oakmont case? Dale has a heart of gold! I won't stand by and seen him carried off in chains for something he didn't do."

"Uh, no, ma'am. We name the cases after the victims." Doyle told her regretfully.

Gadget stood still for a moment. Doyle watched her digest the news. However good some females were at hiding their feelings, he could see this one had knocked her for a loop.

"Dale's really hurt?" She asked eventually. "Someone told me he was but I didn't believe them. Is there something that he needs? Medicine or donor blood or something?"

It hadn't occurred to her that Dale might be dead, Doyle noted. For all the detective knew, the chipmunk was dead by now. Best to play it like she had assumed correctly – stick to the facts as he knew them, state nothing in the present tense when it came to Dale's condition. "Around midnight last night a Street Watch patrol found Mister Maplewood about to tip a sack containing the unconscious body of Mister Oakmont off the edge of your porch. Mister Oakmont had sustained a severe blow to the head for which he is receiving treatment at the Small Animals of Mercy hospital. So far as I know, he hasn't regained consciousness.

"Mister Maplewood is being held back at the East Precinct on a charge of attempted murder."

Gadget stared at him for a moment and burst into tears.

Doyle flinched. Like most males, he had no idea how to deal with a girl in tears. "Ah, gee! Look Miss Hackwrench, I know it's a lot to take in all at once, but once you've had time to think about it you'll realise that it could be a lot worse, you know."

"Could it?" Gadget stared at him, horror struck.

"Yeah, sure. In fact, seeing as no one has seen you since last night, I was half expecting to find you stuffed into another trash sack." Doyle laughed uneasily.

Gadget stared at him, tears still on her cheeks. "Tell me what you think happened."

Her flat matter of fact tone, so much at odds with her appearance, took Doyle aback. He knew from experience that people who had been through a terrible ordeal sometimes spoke like this because they had no energy left to get emotion. Gadget's hands and face were clean but her fur had the fluffy, standing on end look of having been recently washed. It didn't mean anything if she had been out in the rain but the mouse before him was wearing a clean, neatly pressed jumpsuit that was as dry as a bone. Suddenly Detective Doyle very much wanted to hear her version of events first.

"Actually, I was hoping you might be able to suggest something." He scratched the back of his head as though mystified and gave her goofy smile.

Gadget met his eyes with a steady gaze. "Such as?"

Doyle winced. His imagination conjured up the memory of Chip Maplewood proudly telling him that he was a detective too. He wandered how often the girl in front of him had seen Maplewood use the same ploy to extract information on the sly. There was nothing to do now but see it through and hope for the best.

"Have you any idea why Chip might have attacked Dale?"

"I don't."

"There's no history of violence between them?"

"Could we talk about this in the kitchen? I'd like to sit down and I really need a cup of coffee." Gadget asked.

Doyle hesitated. He knew she was stalling and technically the kitchen as much off limits as anywhere else in the Rangers' clubhouse but at least she was agreeing to talk. Besides, she made it sound like such a reasonable request.

"Sure." He smiled.

A moment later they were sitting at the Rangers' kitchen table, waiting for the water to heat up. At close quarters Doyle noticed the heavy bags under her eyes for the first time, as though she hadn't slept for a week for the first time. Gadget stared blankly at him as he studied her face, then she seemed to remember that she was supposed to be answering a question.

"Chip and Dale fought all the time, mostly verbally, but sometimes physically. I got the impression that they had known each other forever. That they'd just been brought up that way and hadn't grown out of it. There was never any serious harm done."

"By serious, you mean…"

"Nothing that an icepack wouldn't fix. No blood, no broken bones. It could be alarming if you were seeing it for the first time and it was tough on the furniture but that's about all."

"What did they fight over?"

Gadget frowned and checked the water. "Anything. Which TV show to watch, who was better at whatever silly contest they'd invented to pass the time, whose fault the latest disaster was. And me."

"You?"

Gadget looked up at him again, her eyes still glistening with tears. "Who liked me the best. They thought I didn't know but they weren't very discrete about it. They wouldn't talk about it, either with me or each other but sometimes they'd scream about it in each other's faces right in front of me and then we'd go back to acting like I still hadn't noticed they were competing for me."

Doyle nodded, trying to look as though he heard this sort of thing all the time. "Right. Why do you think that was?"

Gadget closed her eyes and shook her head. Either she didn't have an answer or the answer was something she didn't want to say aloud.

"Miss Hackwrench?"

"I was still in mourning for my father when I first met them. I'd been alone for a year, no family, no friends because we moved around too much when I was growing up. Our homestead was a little off the beaten track, so not many sociable visitors. Oh, I had dreamed about some handsome, dashing young mouse who would sweep me off my feet but I wasn't ready to be someone's… other half yet." Gadget flushed. This was heading away from police interview and into therapist's territory.

"I meant the water is boiling." Doyle pointed behind her.

"Oh!" Gadget stood up and attended to the kettle, pouring a generous measure of coffee grounds into the coffee maker.

"You have mud behind your ears." Doyle said.

Gadget's hand stiffly went to the offending dirt.

"Thank you for telling me." She said returning to the table. "The coffee will be ready in a moment. Would you like a cup?"

"Yes, thank you. Now don't tell me, a good detective should be able to name what part of the city mud came from by its colour and texture. Give me a moment to think and I should be able to tell you where you were last night."

Gadget twitched. "I already know where I was last night. You could simply ask me."

"Indulge me, it's not often we get one of these… Sherlockian moments I suppose you'd call them."

"Do you take sugar?"

"No. I'd say you were on the east side of the city, only the texture's wrong. I'll place it eventually, though."

"My dad did his best to raise me properly but I guess he must have skipped telling me to wash behind my ears. It's probably been there a while."

"Looks fresh."

"I didn't dab it there before going out for a night on the town, that's for sure."

"I meant the coffee."

"Oh!" Gadget got their coffee. She raised her own cup to her lips before remembering, regretfully, that she would have to give it time to cool.

"Did you just hear something?" Doyle asked, turning his head.

Gadget slapped her cup down on the table, splashing hot coffee on Doyle's hand.

"Oh! Sorry! It was hotter than I thought."

Doyle bit back a curse and glared at her before regaining self-control.

"It's alright." He said gently. "I thought I heard the door closing. I should go and check."

"You closed the door. It was probably just the wind on one of the window shutters. You'd be surprised how windy it is, living at the top of the tree." Gadget took his scolded hand and lifted it to check for burns.

Doyle watched as if hypnotised. Her touch was gentle and electric. The pose reminded him of a knight in shining armour bowing to kiss the hand of a fine lady only with the roles reversed.

Gadget's eyes flicked from his paw to his face with a smile. "I'll have to be careful. Chip once accused me of having a thing for detectives. I wouldn't want to prove him right."

Doyle flinched at Chip's name. He withdrew his hand, his heart and face hardening. One person was in hospital and another was in jail and, whether she meant any harm or not, this pretty girl was at the bottom of it all. From what he had heard, Chip Maplewood had been a good detective, until he had fallen for a pretty skirt…

No. Chip had said there was no skirt, dame or floozy involved. Gadget was just back from a night on the town and if she wasn't wearing a skirt for that she never wore them. The words dame and floozy didn't fit Gadget either. Doyle wasn't surprised that Chip had slammed the door on that branch of the interview; he probably would have, too. Doyle made a mental note that a suspect would be more open to confessing a romantic involvement that didn't reflect badly on the object of their affections.

"I heard you preferred Hawaiian shirts to gumshoes." Doyle replied. A note of jealousy in his own voice took him aback. Was he sticking up for Chip? Or just fighting the first stages of a schoolboy crush of his own?

Gadget stared at him. "There was a time when I'd have just told you that I never wear either. It would have answered your question perfectly and I never would have supposed that you were asking me whether I preferred Chip or Dale."

"I'm not asking about some non-specific time when you were an innocent little girl. I'm asking you about last night when Chip Maplewood tried to kill his best friend." Doyle glared at her.

"I wasn't here last night when that happened." Gadget shook her head as if trying to clear it. "If it happened."

"You still haven't answered the question."

"It wasn't a question. It was a statement. Wait. You said you heard that I preferred Dale to Chip? Who told you that? You said Dale hadn't woken up."

"Chip told me."

"Chip? But… Oh Lord. I guess sometimes things change so much you just can't go back to the way things were, can you?"

Doyle studied her professionally. He'd floored her. Anything she said now would be the unguarded truth but if he pushed any harder she'd dissolve into tears again.

"I guess not." He said gently. "I need you to tell me what happened last night, in your own words. Chip's future depends on it."

"Not just Chip's."

Doyle nodded. "If you're concerned about whether the Rangers can carry on with you still recovering from that air crash, Chip in jail for the foreseeable future and Dale in a hospital bed, I'd have to say the answer is no. The city conclave will be deciding what groups to give its support to in the spring. That's a few months away. The way I figure it, we get the co-operation we need and get this over with quickly. I won't lie to you. Even if it's a short trial it's not going to be completely painless. There will be some press coverage and there will be gossip, especially if the motive remains unknown. Best way to deal with that is to get the truth out before the speculation really gets started. That way it becomes old news before most people have even heard of it. People have short memories and you've done a lot of things to be proud of. You'll be able to start over the sooner if this is all cleared up."

Doyle took a notebook from his suit pocket and flipped it open on the table. "Now, how about it?"

Gadget looked at him. "Detective, if I decide to tell my story, it will be under oath at Chip's trial."

Doyle shook his head. "I understand why you might feel that way. You're probably hoping it won't come to that."

"I certainly am."

"Good, good. It's important we understand each other. I've got to tell you, Chip's holding out on us and the sooner he realises that's not going to do him any good at all and starts to make a clean breast of it, the sooner we can make this go away. If I can tell him you've made a statement, I think that will do it. He will stop holding out on us and that's good for him and good for everybody."

Gadget said nothing.

"Think about it, Miss Hackwrench. Who is a long, protracted, drawn out public trial going to hurt most? Chip's going to have to sit there day after day, waiting for the inevitable, watching his reputation be destroyed brick by brick. Now, he's done a lot for this city so no one wants to see that. Let's give him a nice quick trial, over with before the speculation gets out of hand and turns this into a circus, remember?"

"Chip doesn't deserve a nice quick trial." She said.

There was no arguing with her flat tone of voice. Doyle thought it was particularly damning for Chip, given the speech he had just made.

Doyle looked down and considered his position. "I don't suppose it would do any good to warn you that withholding evidence of a crime from the proper authorities is a crime in itself."

"I don't have any evidence relevant to your enquiry, Detective."

Doyle made the mistake of smiling at her condescendingly. "Perhaps you should let me be the judge of that."

Gadget stood up and moved towards the welcome room. "Since I have mud behind my ears, I'll need to shower before I pick up those feminine things that I'll need to get by now I'm a homeless person. You know, sleeping bag, duffle-bag for all my worldly possessions."

"I'm sure you have at least one friend who will put you up. Jennifer Talbert-Hall, for instance."

Gadget's heckles rose. "Jennifer. Yes. I've been wanting to have a word with her. Putting me up for a few nights is the least she can do."

"You and Jennifer have a falling out? I was under the impression you were going to visit her last night."

"Really? Why's that?"

"Because it's what you told Monty." Detective Doyle was watching her closely.

"Is it? I don't recall."

"Well, you certainly didn't go there, because I asked. She's worried sick by the way."

"I'll put her mind at rest."

"I'll have to supervise you while you fill that duffle bag."

Gadget looked over her shoulder at him from the lobby. "Will you be supervising me while I shower too?"

Doyle looked at her sad little-girl eyes with bags under them and tried to work out whether she had any idea the effect she was having on him. He pushed his hat back on his head and tried to imagine the effect this kind of behaviour must have had on Chip and Dale, day to day. Was it deliberate? If it was and she had a choice then she was as much to blame for what happened as Chip was, in Doyle's eyes. If it wasn't deliberate then Doyle doubted she could ever know a normal life, or ever had done.

Just as he was contemplating what a wicked world it was, Doyle noticed the muddy footprints traipsed across the floor. They started by the door and started in the direction of the hallway that lead to the rest of the tree house before they petered out, roughly at the spot Gadget had been standing when Doyle first laid eyes on her.

Doyle pointed. "I don't remember seeing those before!"

Gadget stared at the footprints. "Well, they were here." She made a show of checking her own feet. "Not me. I guess one of your searchers didn't wipe their feet."

"Yeah, I guess." Doyle mused.

"So, my room is this way." Gadget said loudly, as if she thought he were a little deaf or a little stupid. Doyle didn't like to speculate which. "It's not very far but there are some stairs. I'll be as quick as possible in the shower. Then I'll change my clothes and pack my bags. Can I ask how closely you have to supervise me?"

"Are you being serious this time?"

"I'm sorry I was sarcastic earlier." Gadget said over her shoulder.

"I'll need to check the shower and whatever room it's in before you use it. Then you can use it while I wait in the hallway. After you dress, I'll need to watch you pack, I'm afraid, and make a list of whatever you take. So I'd appreciate it if you kept the items you take to a minimum, if only to save me from getting writer's cramp."

"I'll do my best."

"Do you hear water running?" Doyle said suddenly.

"It's just the overflow. All that rain last night probably overfilled our tank, especially with no one home to use any water this morning." Gadget said breezily.

Doyle frowned but said nothing. It sounded like a bathtub to him.

Gadget stopped dead in the middle of the hallway so suddenly that Doyle almost walked into her.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"There's tape across the door to my workshop. Is that where it happened?"

"Yes. It is. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to stay out of there."

"There's a note taped to the door." Gadget read aloud: "Warning signs ain't kidding. Room full of dangerous machines. Wait for technical assistance before searching." She turned to look at Doyle questioningly.

Doyle glanced at the danger notices next to the door. "The signs _are_ a little intimidating." He pointed out.

"They're supposed to be. I find that chipmunks are generally more curious than mice. Unless it's just a trait Chip and Dale happen to share."

"The signs seem to be particularly emphatic about Dale. Is he the more, uh, curious of the two?"

"I wouldn't say that but he lacks Chip's common sense. I didn't want him hurting himself on any of my inventions."

"You didn't invent anything that's likely to bop him on the head and pop him in a trash bag, did ya?" Doyle teased.

Gadget hesitated, as though considering a yes answer. "I'm quite capable of inventing something like that but, no, there's nothing in there that could do that. You know, I could go in and make everything in the room safe. I'd just need a little privacy."

"Privacy?"

"It's a potentially hazardous environment. It would be for your safety."

"I think we'll stick with the mechanic from Mario's Toy Store and the trap specialist they're trying to borrow from the Rescue Aid Society. For the time being." Doyle added.

"You're sure? It wouldn't take a moment."

"Quite sure." Doyle smiled firmly.

Gadget turned away slowly. Doyle suspected her of wanting to tamper with evidence and, if he was any judge, she knew it. He waited for her to ask him up front about it, instead she said: "My room is just around the corner. It's the next door along."

"I'll wait outside. Try not to take too long."

"Thank you."

214

Doyle ventured into Gadget's bedroom with the uncomfortable feeling that he was entering previously unexplored territory.

The morning sunlight had caught the sun crystal hung in her window. The bed had an un-slept in look. Contrary to his expectations the closet door was open, revealing that she did indeed at least own dresses, even if she didn't wear them. There was a model space rocket on the dresser, an open textbook next to the bed, and an open chest of drawers that looked to be partly empty. If it were not for the fact that Gadget was leaning on the doorframe, waiting to come in and pack, Doyle would have said that someone had already packed for a journey and someone in a hurry, at that.

Of course, that only fitted in with what Chip had told him about last night.

"How long will you need to pack?" Doyle asked.

"I'm afraid it might be a few minutes. I always have difficulty deciding what to take and what to leave." Gadget answered from the doorway.

"I don't see a shower in here." Doyle said.

"I'm afraid we didn't have the space for en-suite bathrooms. I'll have to use the one down the hall but I'll pack first, if that's alright."

"Fine." Doyle told her. "Any time you're ready. Just remember that I need to make a list."

Gadget shrugged and entered the room. Doyle watched her closely. The first thing Gadget did was open a closet and reach into it, looking for something that turned out not to be there. Doyle could just make out a clean oblong about right for a suitcase that wasn't there. Gadget frowned and reached up onto the closet shelf instead to retrieve an old and battered suitcase with so many travel labels on it that Doyle couldn't begin to count them.

"This used to be my Dad's suitcase. Perhaps I'll do some world travelling like he use to if the Ranger's break up."

"Every cloud has its silver lining." Doyle said. "You'll stick around for the trial, right?"

Gadget laid the suitcase on the bed and opened it. "Detective, are you telling me not to leave town?" she asked playfully.

"Yes." Doyle replied evenly.

Gadget cast a worried look at him, then went to the window and took down the sun crystal. "My mother gave me this. So I could always have my very own rainbow."

Doyle took out his pad and began writing. "Item one, sun crystal and frame. Item two-" he continued as Gadget went round the room "-pen and paper. Item three, three boiler suits."

"Shouldn't that be items three, four and five?" Gadget teased.

"I'm keeping the list short." Doyle replied tersely. "Item four, three T-shirts. Item five, ahem-" Doyle turned away, blushing "-assorted, ah, undergarments."

"I'm taking my makeup kit and my mother's jewellery. Do I have to open them?"

"Yes, but only so I can see they are what you say they are."

Gadget presented him with two boxes. One a surprisingly ordinary make up box, no different from what he had seen in other women's bedrooms, the other a very old wooden box that looked to be hand made. Gadget held two hidden buttons in and opened it. Inside was a pitifully small selection of old and tarnished jewellery. Beads, crystal ear rings, a simple broach and a couple of knickknacks were the sum total of Gadget's maternal inheritance. Doyle dutifully added them to his list and asked Gadget if she was taking anything else.

"I'll need a dress for the trial, right?" Gadget glided towards the closet again.

"You realise we usually let people back into their homes once we're done searching them?" Doyle asked.

"Actually, I hadn't, but better safe than sorry. How long do you think it will be for us?"

"The guy from Mario's said he'd be happy to come over any time but the Rescue Aid Society is being cagey about where their technical specialist is and when he'll be available. End of the week, tops, barring unforeseen circumstances."

"Unforeseen circumstances…" Gadget held up her thumb and forefinger with a hair's breadth between them. "Ya know, I was that close to regretting that I'd packed so much."

Doyle smiled but did not laugh. "I'm still going to need an official statement from you about last night. Something we can put in writing."

"Can I come by the station house when I know where I'm sleeping tonight?"

"Sure." Doyle nodded. She had made the request sound so reasonable he could hardly refuse.

"Time for my shower." Gadget closed the suitcase. "And then there's one last thing you can add to your list. It's up in our aircraft hanger."

Doyle's eyes widened as he rapidly upgraded the size of the Ranger's Headquarters in his thinking. "They had room for an aircraft hanger but they couldn't fit in en-suite bathrooms?"

"I know." Gadget agreed as they left her bedroom and closed the door. "And they complain about the amount of time I spend in the bathroom."

At the bathroom door Gadget turned and looked at Doyle with mock seriousness. "If you don't mind, I'm trying to get back into the habit of going to the bathroom by myself, Detective."

"I would have thought a big girl like you would have been doing that for a while now." Doyle smiled back.

"I was for a long time but I stopped for a while." Gadget rolled her eyes at him. "I'll see you in a while, Detective. Will you be standing guard outside the door or searching the place for clues?"

"Probably a little of both. Try not to be too long in there. If I go anywhere I'll be back before too long so don't feel the need to go looking for me."

Gadget smiled through the crack in the door. "I won't." Turning around, she surveyed the state of the bathroom. "Lord, what a mess!"

The bath was caked in mud and grime. There were long blonde hairs clogging the plughole and matting the bath brush. There were dirty paw prints around the bath and on the wall.

"Looks like I'm going to be cleaning up after Lawhiney in more ways than one." Gadget growled.

215

Doyle considered standing dutifully outside the door and pacing up and down the hallway like a sentry, then shrugged and went looking for Chip's study. According to Chip, that was the last place he had seen Gadget, shortly before she left for a night on the town. He tried three doors before he found it. One led to the unbearable mess that was Monty's sleeping quarters, the next to a cupboard full of cleaning supplies.

Chip's study was a small, neatly ordered room with a couple of bookcases, a desk and an armchair next to a lamp set up as a reading corner. Like Lawhiney before him, Doyle searched the desk drawers. He was hoping to find clues to the chipmunk's state of mind. When he came to the photograph of Tammy, he paused. It was inconsistent with the interest in Gadget that Chip had confessed to him.

Putting that to one side for a moment, Doyle continued his search. He noted the carefully maintained case files and the well-organised card index. It reminded him of his own desk, except a good deal tidier and with less unfinished paperwork to catch up on.

"Guess the Rangers aren't as busy as Chip would like to make out." Doyle muttered to himself. "I got a mountain of paperwork the Chief is on my back about…"

Doyle stopped as it struck him that Chip didn't have a Chief or anybody else to get on his back about paperwork or anything else. A wave of jealousy broke over him, followed by contempt for someone who could have all this and not know how lucky they were. Doyle forced himself to swallow it and look at it analytically.

Chip's study was neat and orderly. His paperwork was tidy and complete. That spoke of someone who was much the same: neat, orderly and tidy. Someone self-disciplined, probably with regular habits and given to making plans. The books in the bookcase were mostly crime fiction, which made Doyle's lip curl in disgust. He instinctively distrusted a detective who read lurid stories that made police work sound glamorous or adventurous. At best, their choice in reading might be tainting their perceptions; at worst it marked them out as wannabes with no real business in the line of work they had chosen for themselves.

Doyle closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to fit the picture he had just built up into the jigsaw he had so far. Someone with a neat and orderly exterior might hide strong emotions under the surface. Someone with no real idea of how crimes happened might be unprepared for the consequences of a momentary loss of control and no idea how to clean up afterwards without getting caught.

Doyle shook his head. He could make it fit, just about, but he was forcing it and he knew it. That meant it was probably wrong.

The Chip Maplewood that Doyle pictured in this room was a careful, methodical person with too much self-control if anything. Even assuming the reputation Chip had as a detective was undeserved – and in spite of his feigned ignorance while interviewing Chip, Doyle had known his reputation – the Ranger still knew enough about detective work to know how not to commit a murder and dispose of a corpse. Even if he had lost his grip and tried to kill in a moment of madness, Chip Maplewood would have made his next move carefully and thoughtfully. Leaving town in the dead of night while dragging his friend's body behind him in a trash bag didn't qualify.

Scowling, Doyle began looking for a diary or journal, something that might give him a window into Chip's thinking. There was a notebook identical to the detective's own, save that when he opened it the first few pages seemed to contain rough attempts at gooey love poems. Doyle didn't need to do much deduction to work out who the subject of the poems was. With a sigh he turned back to the case files, but without much hope. Chip was unlikely to have made a note of his last case to the effect that he thought his girl was getting some on the side and that if it turned out to be his best friend, he'd whack him over the head with the nearest convenient object.

The case files were in date order. Doyle read the neatly marked case titles with mounting despair. It read like a library of cheap pulp fiction. The S. S. Drainpipe. Catteries Not Included. Seer No Evil. The last one was crudely entitled "The Counterfeit Ranger". Doyle fished it out half expecting to see a primary colour picture of a scantily dressed blond on the cover.

The file consisted of a brief, simply worded introduction from Chip stating that there had been a number of long distance enquiries and complaints regarding the Rangers from areas where they had never operated. After a lengthy correspondence, Chip had come to the conclusion that a group of confidence artists were using the Ranger's reputation to rob the unwary.

Doyle resisted the temptation to sneer. It was easy to think something was obvious once it was known as established fact and long distance communications were shaky at best when you were a small animal trying to avoid human notice. Misunderstandings happened all the time. It took ages to get confirmation of anything. Rumours were epidemic. Doyle remembered some of the ones he had heard at the Sweeper precinct about Miss Hackwrench before the impostor had been captured. That had been months ago. He flipped a few pages.

Interesting. He hadn't known that Chip had left town a few months ago. Conducting an undercover investigation? Even more interesting. Chip's findings were carefully recorded. The people he had interviewed, the evidence he had gathered.

Doyle wanted to snarl. If Chip had evidence it should have been presented at the trial. He could nail the chipmunk right there for withholding – no, wait. Chip had aborted his investigation and returned home only after he learned that Gadget had been injured. That meant he couldn't have arrived back until after the trial, because the trial was the day after the museum robbery. It would take longer than two days to reach the city from the places Chip had named.

He turned the page and found a newspaper report of the trial. This time Doyle did snarl. Someone who complained about how inaccurate newspapers were shouldn't be relying on them as evidence in an investigation.

By rights, that should have been the end of the file but Doyle turned the page and found the heading "Follow Up Investigation". He dropped the snarl and frowned deeply. The chipmunk seemed to pride himself on the quality of his record keeping. Doyle hadn't seen any spelling mistakes or corrections but here Chip had drawn two deliberate, heavy lines through the title at the head of the page.

The brown rat sat back in the too small chair and stared at nothing in particular while he considered this. Chip liked to keep his records tidy. The section heading had been written in his best boilerplate and then struck through with carefully heavy handedness of someone who had thought long and hard before deciding on a difficult course of action. Doyle's back stiffened when he worked it out. Chip had decided, quietly and without telling anyone, not the proper authorities, perhaps not even his friends, to reopen the investigation.

He let the implications of that circle in his brain for a moment before continuing.

Under the crossed out title was an account of a one-sided interview with the impostor being held in Shrankshaw, then another of the kidnap attempt at the hospital. Doyle mused on them for a few minutes, then turned another page.

It was blank.

Doyle sighed in disappointment and shut the file. Chip Maplewood had begun a puzzle but life had gotten in the way before he could finish it. The detective in Doyle wanted to know the answer, but this wasn't the puzzle that he was supposed to be working on.

He checked the digital watch on the wall. Fifteen minutes had passed. He really should go back and check on Miss Hackwrench. There was nothing else here, unless Chip had pencilled in "Kill Dale" on his day planner.

The detective's eyes went to the day planner, not even consciously, as the thought crossed his mind.

Chip had set aside two hours to write up his field notes.

Chip's notes, where were they? Doyle racked his brain trying to remember if they had been on the list of personal items confiscated by the desk sergeant. No, why would they be? Chip actually admitted he was leaving town when the patrol caught him.

Doyle checked the drawers again and found a notebook he had missed the first time. He flipped it open. Chip had interviewed two people the night before, a prison officer called Margo Haggs and Gadget's friend, Jennifer. He read the notes. They were rougher and less careful than the case file, more like Doyle's own notebook. Chip's thoughts and impressions were there along with the facts. Doyle's respect for Chip began to revive. The chipmunk had reached a stage in his investigation Doyle knew far too well. All the important pieces of the puzzle were there and he was just waiting for something to make sense of them. A last fact, a casual remark, a bolt of inspiration or just a good night's sleep, something that would show him how to put them all together.

Except… there was something about Chip's investigation, the almost desperate attention to detail and obsessive gathering of information that said Chip would rather do anything than put those pieces together.

Doyle shook his head. The time was getting away from him. Gadget would be wondering where he was. He half expected to find her building those on-suite bathrooms they had joked about.

Instead she was waiting in a clean set of clothes with her bags already packed, leaning against the wall by the bathroom door.

"Hello, detective. I was wondering where you were. You said you'd be right outside the door." Gadget said.

"I'm sorry about that." Doyle said. "I had to…" he trailed off, embarrassed.

"It couldn't have been a call of nature. I would have noticed." She teased with a gentle smile.

He would have died for her. Right there and then. He had let himself be distracted from his duty for no good reason, he could have checked for evidence after he had seen her out the door. She'd had him, but she let him go.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" Doyle asked.

"Just one thing. I'm afraid there's another item that you'll have to add to your list."

"That other item, the one you wanted from the aircraft hanger? Well, I wouldn't mind see the place. Can I carry your bags for you?"

"Do you want to check the contents again?"

"That won't be necessary." Doyle said quickly. But he did test the weight of them when he picked them up. They felt about right for what he had seen her pack.

Gadget led the way to the hanger. By the time they were halfway there, Doyle was thinking of moving to some flat open place where he could live his life and never see another staircase again. The suitcases kept banging into his legs uncomfortably. By the time they reached the top of the stairs, Doyle knew he would have bruises by lunchtime.

"These things seem to be twice the weight they were when I picked them up." He complained as he put them down on the hanger deck.

"If anything, the inverse square law means they should be slightly lighter. Gravity diminishes the further away you get from the source, which in this case would be the earth, and since the top of the tree is higher than the bathroom, which is about halfway up, the force acting on them which creates the impression of weight would decrease accordingly." Gadget had a look of self-conscious concentration on her face, as if she were speaking in a second language.

Doyle blinked. It sounded like basic schoolroom physics to him. "I remember learning something like that in school. Are you quoting a textbook?"

Gadget looked slightly abashed. "Was it clear and easy to understand? I've been told I talk too fast. People can't keep up. And that I'm too technical, that I use too many big words people aren't used to hearing?"

Doyle looked at her and shook his head. "No, I heard that about you, that you talk at chipmunk speed. People put it down to you having been around Chip and Dale for so long, but I haven't heard you chatter at all today." In fact nothing she had said sounded like chatter. Every word was carefully weighed and considered before being spoken.

"Oh well, perhaps next time…" she promised, as if he had missed a treat.

"Where is this item you needed?" Doyle asked, glaring at the suitcases. He'd just realised he was going to have to carry them all the way down again when she got what she wanted. Knowing his luck, it would be something heavy.

"It's, uh, over here." Gadget said.

She pulled on a rope of fishing twine that had been tied to peg in the wall. A white silk handkerchief rose up into the air, revealing the shining blue aircraft that had been sitting in the centre of the hanger. Doyle stared at the wonder, the first aircraft he had seen from this distance since he was a boy.

"I thought the Ranger-plane was destroyed." He said weakly. For a moment, some of the wild stories he had heard about her came back to him and he wondered if she had built this after her shower.

"It was. This is the Ranger-wing."

"You guys had TWO aeroplanes?" Doyle gaped at her disbelievingly. If she'd waved an application form under his nose, he would have signed there and then.

"I built the first one in a hurry. This one I had time to think about." Gadget confided. "Of course, if it's too much I'll quite understand. Though I'll need some help to carry the bags down to the bottom of the tree…"

Doyle thought about the spiral staircase he had climbed to reach the front door and added it to the stairs he had just climbed.

"I don't see how I can stop you. No one's suggested that this is evidence and it belongs to the Rangers, of which you're a full member."

"A founding member." Gadget corrected. "Plus I designed and built this."

"Like I said -" Doyle returned in a thoughtful tone of voice after sizing her up "- I don't think I could stop you."

216

Doyle lay flat on the hanger deck as the rotor blades of the Ranger-wing blew every scrap of litter and dust around him. The blades tilted forwards and the boomerang shaped aircraft moved gracefully off the runway and into the open sky beyond. When it was gone, Doyle picked himself up and counted himself lucky he hadn't had a hat to hang onto.

"I wonder what the range is on that thing." He muttered to himself as he drew out his notebook and pencil. If Gadget landed in Mexico or some other place with no extradition, he'd look pretty silly in front of his superiors.

His paw shaking only slightly, he made an addition to his list: Item eight – One aircraft.

217

Lawhiney waited until she was cold enough to be sure they were airborne and clear of any witnesses before she threw off the blanket that she was wrapped in and got up off the floor in front of the back seat.

"Not bad, sister. From what little I eavesdropped, you charmed him like a pro."

"I'll try to take that as a compliment." Gadget said through gritted teeth. "You left the bathroom in quite a mess. I didn't have time to wash. I only had time to clean up after YOU."

"I didn't think keeping house would be a priority, given our current circumstances."

"It isn't. But if he'd seen evidence of more than one person in the house while he was there… you didn't even wipe your feet on the mat, for crying out loud!"

"I didn't realise you were entertaining, or I would have waited outside."

"It's just lucky he didn't insist on checking my bags a second time. Your botched confessions are under my unmentionables, along with the envelope you left for Chip and the note I found face down on the floor telling him to check in the bin bag before throwing it out."

Lawhiney checked her appearance in her compact. She looked tired and careworn. "Is it too much to hope for that you brought makeup?"

"Yes. Don't open the suitcase or the wind will take the only clothes I have and my panties will wind up scattered over half the city." _Just like a certain someone else's I could mention!_ Gadget thought but didn't say.

"Gadget, I'm proud of you!" Lawhiney cooed. "I've been with you less than a day and you've brought lipstick instead of a sprocket set."

"My sprocket set was too bulky to take without Doyle noticing and it will be waiting for me when I get back home which, believe me, I intend to be soon!"

"I expected you to bring a toolbox at least!"

"The Ranger-wing has a good toolkit in the trunk, along with a medical kit, which is what you'll need if you give me reason to forget you're my half-sister!"

"Temper, temper! What would Geegaw say?"

"He'd say keep your mind on flying the plane instead of tearing strips off each other or the next wings you fly on will be the celestial variety!" Geegaw yelled from beside her.

"GEEGAW!" Lawhiney yelped.

"Hey, careful there kiddo! You jump any higher the plane's likely to have moved on by the time you come down again!" Geegaw gave his elder daughter a rakish smile.

"Is he here?" Gadget asked, frowning uncertainly from up front.

Lawhiney cursed at both of them.

"Three months ago I wouldn't have known what most of those words meant even if I had heard them before." Gadget said thoughtfully after a moment. "But that was before I shared a cell with a career criminal. I offered to teach her some more impressive words for her vocabulary and she said she'd do the same for me."

"Yes. He's here. He says if you actually use any of the words she taught you, he'll find that hairbrush you haven't seen since you were eight!"

"Tell him he hasn't seen it either because I burned it. As for the words, we'll see what comes out the next time I hit my thumb with a hammer."

"Ask her where we're going!" Geegaw instructed Lawhiney.

Lawhiney stared at him in amazement and delight. He was wearing a leather bomber jacket and flying helmet complete with goggles and suddenly she was struck by how alive he appeared now he was in his element. "He wants to know where we're going." Lawhiney relayed, smiling.

"I'm going to put the plane down on our old launch pad. The Screaming Eagle's nest. Then we'll figure out our next move. And before I forget…"

"Yes?"

"BAD LAWHINEY FOR NOT TELLING ME ABOUT DALE!"

"I sort of told you. Well, you guessed and I just nodded…" Lawhiney whimpered. "Geegaw, you'll back me up won't you?"

Geegaw shook his head. "Sorry, Law, I agree with Gadget. You've had all night since I disappeared and you should have made a full confession by now."

"Well, Gadget did most of the talking, when she wasn't busy fixing the car. Besides she's cranky. I didn't want to say the wrong thing again."

"CRANKY? I go to PRISON because you FRAMED me, BREAK OUT and get hunted like an ANIMAL and she says I'm CRANKY."

Geegaw looked at his younger daughter and nodded with his nose wrinkled. "You're right, she is cranky."

"See? Geegaw agrees with me." Lawhiney said, inadvisably.

Gadget twisted the control yoke as though she were wringing someone's neck. The Ranger-wing tilted at ninety degrees and dived like a hawk. The ground came up like big green custard pie about to hit them in the face and Lawhiney curled into a ball behind the pilot's seat.

The Ranger-wing landed safely in a grassy clearing next to a lake. Lawhiney stayed as she was until her stomach caught up with them.

"Perfect three point landing." Geegaw muttered. "Lawhiney, are you okay?"

"Fine, fine. Did you teach your daughter to fly, or does she just make it up as she goes along?"

"I didn't teach her that one, that's for sure." Geegaw replied.

"Is he really here?" demanded Gadget. "I want to know. If I think you're lying to me or trying to manipulate me in any way then I'm warning you, no-one's going to have trouble telling us apart until the swelling goes down…"

"I get the message!" Lawhiney raised her hands defensively.

Gadget beat the control yoke with her fists. "Darn it, I thought he wasn't coming back. I lost him twice already. That's more than anyone should have to bear."

"Ah, Gadget." Geegaw shook his head sadly. "Tell her something for me…"

"I'll tell her, but I doubt she'll understand any more than I do!" Lawhiney retorted when he was done.

"I can't handle this." Gadget shook her head and rested it on the control panel. "It would be better if they had killed me in prison. Then at least I would be able to talk to him myself."

Lawhiney cringed at the hopelessness in Gadget's voice. Swallowing hard, she plucked up the courage to intrude on her sister's misery. "He has a message for you. Those with the strength to bare more than their share are always asked to carry the heaviest loads."

Gadget snuffled as though she had been crying. "Tell me why he's still here, Lawhiney. I thought he said they wouldn't allow him to come back."

Lawhiney listened for a moment. "He says we've got Dale to thank for that. I'm not sure how though."

Gadget stiffened. "Dale? Is Dale –?"

"Still alive at the last check and, from what Geegaw's saying, he'd better stay that way for a long time, if only because the world isn't ready for Saint Dale yet."

"Saint Dale? No, don't tell me. Some things mouse-kind wasn't meant to know. On the other hand, there are things I positively have to know if I'm going to sort this mess out before we get in any deeper. Such as every last thing you said and did while you were impersonating me."

"That could take some time." Lawhiney warned.

"You're used to impersonating me. I talk fast."

218

Later that day a blonde mouse carrying a large toolbox paid a visit to the Small Animals of Mercy hospital and produced papers to identify herself to the ward sister who guarded the entrance to the hibernation wing.

Visitors to the hibernation wing were uncommon, not least because most of the people a hibernating person was likely to know were generally hibernating alongside them. The few regular visitors were usually relatives by marriage or on a list of approved people such as hairdressers or manicurists, however, the ward sister happily made an exception for the noted Rescue Ranger and recent celebrity Gadget Hackwrench.

"The dormouse in question is in cell 318." The ward sister told her primly.

"Cell?" Gadget queried in a troubled voice.

"Like a monk's cell, dear. A small room just big enough to lay down in."

"I see." Gadget's expression was well masked. If the irony pleased her, no other creature on the planet knew it.

"Franklin Kafka. Cell 318." The ward sister repeated.

Gadget thanked her and walked through the double doors next to her desk.

"Curious. What could she want to visit someone in hibernation for? She can't ask him questions and he certainly doesn't need rescuing." The ward sister puzzled after the doors had swung closed.

Gadget found herself in a seemingly endless corridor of numbered doors. The odd numbers were to her left and the even ones to her right. Following them until she found Franklin Kafka, dormouse and hopelessly inept defence attorney, would be simple arithmetic although, given that the numbers on either side of her started at "1" and "2", probably hard on the feet. Never mind. She had a detour to make first.

And with that consoling thought in mind, Gadget slipped silently through a door marked: "Private. Maintenance Only."

Half an hour later, Franklin Kafka was having a confusing dream. He was standing up in front of a jury making a speech about a very important point of law he had discovered concerning the eating of humble pie but halfway through it became apparent that he wasn't wearing any trousers. He tried to cover up as best he could using his brief case, his case notes, and a conveniently placed pot plant, but eventually it became impossible to carry on the charade. What made it all the worse was that he knew perfectly well that he never wore trousers, that almost no fur baring males of his acquaintance wore trousers, and that no judge or jury consisting of small animals would care.

Unfortunately, this judge and jury seemed to be entirely made up of humans.

Somewhere there had clearly been a terrible booking error.

Still, he had to make the best of it. Franklin tried to stride back to his desk with dignity, only to find that he couldn't move his feet. He struggled but they were firmly rooted to the spot, as if something heavy were on top of them.

"And further more…" He padded his speech desperately. "In the 1812 decision Overture versus Cannon…" The courtroom disintegrated around him. He shook himself. His fur was hot and he wasn't wearing a jacket, shirt or tie.

Franklin Kafka blinked and sat up in bed.

"Where am I?" he squeaked.

There was a beautiful blonde mouse sitting at the end of his bed, on his feet, in fact. It took him a moment to recognize her as Gadget Hackwrench.

"Franklin Kafka." She said. "It feels like it's been a lifetime, and for me it very nearly was."

"Ms Hackwrench? Or are you…" He trailed off and looked around. "I went into hibernation didn't I?" He squeaked suddenly. "We lost the case!"

"We did." The blonde mouse confirmed, throwing her identity into doubt.

Franklin gulped. "Boy, is it me, or is it really hot in here?"

"I'd like to think it's you blushing, but it's probably just hot in here. I paid a visit to the thermostat in the boiler room so we could have this conversation. Although –" she added thoughtfully "- we probably could have had it anyway, if a little one-sidedly."

"Are you really…?"

"Gadget Hackwrench and your client. Yes, still your client. As a lawyer you _should_ have heard of the Hibernation Protection Act, though it wouldn't surprise me if you hadn't." Gadget looked sternly at him, like a schoolteacher being asked to believe a pet had devoured some homework.

"I have heard of it." Franklin admitted. "But in a way it was very lucky that I passed out during the trial."

Gadget raised an eyebrow.

"I mean, we were losing and surely the judge must have ruled a mistrial?"

Gadget pursed her lips and shook her head.

"He didn't?" Franklin gasped. "But I thought, that is I remember, I mean… didn't we lose the case?"

Gadget nodded slowly, narrowing her eyes.

Franklin felt wave of anxiety rise over him. "Well, at least my stand in did a better job than I did! Let's see now… who did I get to stand in for me? I asked Roscoe but he turned me down. I was going to ask Benny but he wasn't back from holiday for another week… uh, I did remember to get someone to act as my stand-in, didn't I?"

Gadget shook her head with careful malice.

Franklin swallowed, hard. Gadget's expression implied this was anything but a friendly call.

"Have I been in hibernation long?" Franklin enquired, wincing with every word.

"Three months." Gadget told him.

Franklin considered the implications with mounting horror until he could stand it no more and closed his eyes. "Oh boy!" he whispered. "If I were you I would certainly have something to say with me!"

"I do." Gadget told him. "You're fired."

219

Gadget made her way back along the corridor, ignoring the commotion of hospital staff and sleepy patients still disorientated from being unexpectedly woken from hibernation. She was back at the front desk in the hospital lobby before anyone worked out what had happened but when she got there all she could do was stand there and shake her head sadly.

"I should have known I couldn't trust that crooked little fraud." Gadget muttered to herself.

"Excuse me?" A voice said behind her.

Gadget turned.

"Oh! Miss Hackwrench, er… did you decide against visiting Mister Oakmont, then?" The nurse who had challenged her was showing unmistakable signs of Lawhiney induced confusion.

"Dale?"

"Uh, yes. Dale Oakmont. I asked if you were here to visit him and you said you were just waiting for someone but then you decided to drop in just to see how he… Is something wrong?"

"I got lost. Where did you say his room was again?"

"Up the east stairs, take the corridor on the right and ask at the nurse's duty station."

"Thank you." Gadget called over her shoulder as she began to run. Lawhiney had tried to kill Dale once and now she had a chance to be alone with him. There was no telling what was in her mind.

Gadget pounded along the corridor, ignoring the staring nurse behind her.

It wasn't that Lawhiney was likely to finish the job she had started just when she was near certain she would have to face the consequences, it was more that Gadget doubted Lawhiney herself knew how she was going to react. Seeing an intensive care patient for the first time could be scary and, even though she had Geegaw with her, one peek inside that hospital room might crumble Lawhiney's resolve like a politician's promise.

When she hit the bottom of the stairs Gadget knew one thing. She couldn't take the chance on her sister disappearing out the nearest exit after one look at her latest victim.

220

Lawhiney was expecting to see Chip and Monty at the door to Dale's room. They weren't there. She didn't yet know about Chip being arrested. Gadget had been so busy pumping her for information that she hadn't realised that for once there was something _she_ wasn't telling.

A nurse came out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Lawhiney kept her head down and walked straight ahead. If anyone challenged her… well, she didn't know what she would do. If last night had taught her anything, it was that she could never impersonate Gadget again.

She reached the door without incident and hesitated. It wasn't like she could just sneak in but she couldn't exactly knock and wait for a "come in" either. She swallowed her doubts and reached out to the door handle. A quick twist of the wrist and step that felt long enough to take her into another world and she was past the point of no return.

Dale's hospital room was small but probably twice the size Lawhiney's jail cell would be, as her self-preservation instincts lost no time pointing out. Dale himself lay in a bed that looked like it had been made out of coat hanger wire twisted into the shape of a bedstead, white sheets tucked in neatly around his slumbering body.

"Oh Dale…" whispered Lawhiney. She crept closer to the bed. "I am so… sorry."

The word helped her more than it helped him. It felt so right on her lips, like a soothing balm taking the heat out of the hurt and letting the healing begin. The sleeping chipmunk was utterly helpless. Lawhiney reached out a paw to his face and brushed his hair away from his eyes.

Dale's eyes snapped open at the touch.

Lawhiney jumped backwards as though scalded. "You're awake!"

"I remember. I remember everything." Dale mumbled. "You're Lawhiney and you tried to kill me."

"I – I didn't _mean_ to."

"That's what I always say when Chip finds out that someone's sat on his hat! It doesn't buy me any slack either!" Dale retorted. "Hey, how come they left me alone with you?"

"I snuck in. No one knows I'm here." Lawhiney admitted.

Dale gasped. "Trying to take me out before I can tell anyone, ay? Well, you ain't getting me without a fight."

Dale grabbed the closest thing he could use as a weapon. It felt reassuringly large in his paws and he threw it with all the force he could muster, striking Lawhiney full in the face.

Fortunately it was only a pillow.

"Hey!" Lawhiney's eyes were wide with alarm. She looked to the door. "Cut that out!"

"No way sister! I'm taking you down! NURSE!" Dale yelled.

"Dale! Stop it, you're going to get me arrested!"

"That's certainly the idea!" Dale began frantically pushing the call button next to the bed. "Nurse! Nurse!"

Lawhiney's eyes went to the pillow at her feet, a disgruntled look wrinkling her nose. She reached towards it with a deliberate slowness.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Dale yelped in a panic. "Nurse! Someone get in here!"

Lawhiney picked up the pillow and advanced on the bed with it held out in front of her, like a weapon.

221

Gadget was charging up the stairs three or four steps at a time. The nurse who had provided directions had not said what level Dale's room was on. Gadget supposed that she was meant to go up rather than down, though there was no real reason to choose one over the other. Similarly, she guessed that the nurse meant her to stop climbing at the first door she came to.

The door burst open as she hit it with her full body weight. By chance, no one was standing on the other side.

Gadget looked in both directions then stumbled towards the nearest nurse's station. The vole behind the counter looked startled and a little concerned.

Best not to ask after her twin sister. It would only lead to lengthy explanations, Gadget decided.

"Dale, Dale Oakmont. I need to know what room he's in and I need to know quickly."

The vole stuttered, showing all the confusion of someone suffering déjà vu. Unable to speak, she pointed to the end of the hallway and the single door at the top of a T-junction.

Gadget ran for it, knowing that behind her the nurse was scrambling for the intercom. In a minute or two at most people would come to the nurse's aid, probably several large people with an air of authority and little interest in listening to explanations.

Gadget ran faster and hit the door at speed. Life being what it was it didn't open. Gadget thought fondly of a word Bubbles had taught her. Then she opened the door the old fashioned way and almost collapsed into Dale's room, dreading what she might find.

Lawhiney was plumping up a pillow behind Dale's head. Dale was sitting up and staring at her quizzically.

"Hey, where's the fire, Gadget?"

Gadget stared at him. She felt like falling over in disbelief. She didn't know what she had expected to find but it wasn't this. Vaguely aware she was staring, Gadget closed the door and tried to gather her thoughts. "No fire, Dale. I was just afraid I was going to miss Lawhiney here."

"Hey!" Lawhiney said reproachfully. "I was just checking on Dale. Anyway, I thought you said you didn't want too many people to see us together?"

"Dale doesn't count. Is Geegaw here?"

"Geegaw?" Dale asked in surprise.

"Lawhiney claims to be able to see him."

"I can so see him!"

"You've claimed an awful lot of things, some of which got me arrested in your place." Gadget pointed out. "So you've no right to act like your feelings are hurt just because I doubt you."

"But you saw him yourself, last night!"

"The jury is still out on what I saw last night. I'd been on my feet twenty-four hours with only six hours sleep the night before, I'd run cross-country, broken out of jail, gone one on one with the biggest, meanest rat I've ever seen twice and one of the best friends I'll ever have, not to mention fighting off an angry mob single handed. But whatever I saw, I'm not seeing it now and I'm not taking your word for anything."

Dale stared at her. "Wow! I'd forgotten how fast you normally talk Gadget. I can't believe someone didn't say 'Hey, this can't be Gadget we brought back from the hospital 'cause we can understand what she's saying! It must be an impostor!' within, like, ten minutes of her coming in the door!"

Lawhiney crossed her arms and pursed her lips. If there was one thing she was fairly sure she didn't deserve to be criticised for, it was the quality of her Gadget impression.

"That's right!" Gadget agreed recklessly. Her mouth was moving at such a pace she missed Dale's point entirely. "I can't believe that the four people who know me best on the whole planet couldn't tell the difference between me and some cheep floozy who wanders in through the door without an oil stain on her jumpsuit!"

"Neither can I!" Dale agreed with equal recklessness. "Especially the way she doesn't drink coffee or spend all night in her workshop making enough noise to keep the whole park awake! Or insist on watching boring science documentaries on the TV when World Wrestling Federation is on the other channel, or spend ninety minutes exploring every single possible answer when you ask her a simple question, or cook so badly we have to sneak the food out of the house in yellow hazmat bags!"

"Exactly." Gadget agreed triumphantly before her brain reigned in her mouth and pointed out that they were in uncharted territory. Her face fell and her eyes immediately stung with tears. "You – You preferred her to me?"

Dale assumed the frozen expression common to road kill everywhere.

"Uh, what's that?" he asked feebly.

"You did, you preferred her to me…"

"No, no! I was just saying how awful her impression is and how dumb we were for not seeing through it! Honest!"

"Oh come now, honey, I seem to remember you didn't have a bad thing to say about it when we were bouncing around on the back seat of the Ranger Plane…" Lawhiney teased.

Gadget stared at both of them in shock and horror.

"YOU and DALE? You – you – on the back seat of MY Ranger Plane?"

Lawhiney snickered.

"She said she wanted to test the springs…" Dale said weakly.

"Oh don't get your panties in a bunch." Lawhiney said before Gadget could finish the job everyone thought Chip had started.

"Don't get my –" Gadget was nearly speechless with rage. "How many of the others did you do that with, Lawhiney? Did you test the springs with Chip, too? With MONTY?"

Gadget was on the edge of tears. Some deep instinct that had been a part of Lawhiney for as long as she could remember was spurring her on, urging her to kick Gadget over that edge so Lawhiney could watch those tears fall. _Tell her the others couldn't wait! Tell her they all knew! They just pretended not to as long as you kept blowing in their ears and helping them scratch that itch that SHE wouldn't let them reach! _For the first time, the instinct didn't feel natural to her. It felt like something alien, intruding into her mind like a cancer or the roots of a weed.

Where was Geegaw when she really needed him?

Lawhiney cleared her throat. "Dale and I spent a couple of minutes using the back seat as a trampoline before I stole the Ranger Plane. I had something else in mind when I suggested it but Dale here was too sweet and innocent to understand and Monty, well, he's got his charms but he'd have to lose some weight and about fifteen years first, if you get my meaning. As for Chip… you can keep the commitment phobic little control freak for all I care, but if you do you're going to have to duck sooner or later, take my word for it. There's a reason why people think he's the one who put Dale in this hospital bed, you know."

They weren't exactly the soothing words Lawhiney had hoped for but at least they were true.

Gadget's face softened as the words spilled over her. She hung her head so that her hair covered her face and maybe a tear or two did fall, unseen behind that blonde curtain. She sat on the end of Dale's bed without looking up and, behind her, Lawhiney looked as if the effort of saying something that was even a little true had knocked the wind out of her.

After a while, Dale reached out and touched Gadget on the shoulder. He stretched out a fingers and parted her hair like a theatre curtain and smiled at her. "I dreamed of your father, you know. At least, I think it was a dream. I saw him with a tall detective, one like in Chip's books, and a big ugly rat who smelled of brimstone. They were angry and there was a lot of arguing, but I think everything turned out all right in the end. Especially after I hit the rat with a chair."

"You hit him with a chair?" Gadget laughed.

"They didn't know whether to fit me for a halo or a pitchfork right there and then, so I guess sending me back before I did anything else was the only option they had left."

"Oh Dale!" Gadget hugged him fiercely.

After a moment, Lawhiney coughed politely. "Uh, should I go hang out in the hallway for a while?"

Dale struggled to free himself long enough to breathe. "Yeah, Gadget. I don't think the hospital had this in mind when they put a bed in here… Gadget?"

And Gadget simply said: "Zzzzz."


	31. Caged Chip

_**Disclaimer**_

In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone… except a certain kind of lawyer.

**Chapter Thirty-One**

**Caged Chip**

222

Gadget woke suddenly with a blinding headache. Her first thought was that someone, probably Lawhiney, had hit her over the back of the head and knocked her out. The room was darkened and she was face down on an otherwise empty hospital bed. She got up and nearly collapsed on the floor. Her arms and legs were shaking and felt about as strong as spaghetti.

Dale was gone. So was Lawhiney. For all that Gadget knew they might be half way to Hawaii and planning to start a new life together. No, Lawhiney had put that notion to bed when she made her little speech, ending with her critique of Chip as a future husband. And no one had hit her.

Gadget had been a Rescue Ranger for long enough to recognise the symptoms of physical and mental exhaustion. She also had a good idea of what her body could do and what it couldn't do and she had proved many of the latter ideas wrong in the last day and a half.

Or longer.

How long had she been asleep?

The door opened as if someone had heard her wake. Gadget looked up and saw Lawhiney.

"We couldn't wake you." Lawhiney said. "Dale's in X-ray. He hasn't said anything to anyone about the two of us, or who really clonked him over the head."

"What about – "

"Most of the nurses are busy." Lawhiney raised her eyebrows. "Apparently someone took a tool box and a whole lot of imagination to the thermostat on the boiler system the humans use to heat their hotel. Turned it up way beyond maximum. Now all the winter hibernators are wandering around the hospital like something out of day of the dead."

Gadget giggled. She'd seen that horror movie with Dale. "I hope they aren't hungry. How long was I asleep?"

"Four hours. I've read all the magazines in the waiting room, flirted with the orderly to the point where I think he's about to propose marriage and…" Lawhiney looked secretive.

"I don't trust that look. What did you do Lawhiney?"

"Oh please, like I couldn't have batted my eyes at Dale, pleaded my unborn child's case and been half way to another city by now."

Gadget felt her cheeks flush beneath their fine peach fur. Guilt was irrational after everything Lawhiney had done. "I still want to know, Law."

"I went to see my doctor. Doctor Bell. He's a very nice pack rat who looked after me while I was recovering. I wanted to…"

Gadget stiffened. "You wanted to THANK him, right, Lawhiney?"

"Oh yes. I did." Lawhiney looked unusually bashful.

Visions of how Lawhiney might of thanked her heroic doctor danced before Gadget's eyes. "Please don't say he still thought I was you!"

"I told him everything. Well, not everything. I left out Geegaw but I told him about the vision I had while I was unconscious. He said that was to be expected, with the concussion and the life I had been leading. He was so… good about it. He says he'll be there when my baby is born and make sure I get the proper treatment."

"Oh." Gadget blinked. For the second time, Lawhiney had confounded her… or maybe not. There was something dreamy about her expression. "You aren't falling for him, are you? Because your foreseeable future is kind of spoken for."

Lawhiney's face soured. "Aw, heck. The rest of my life is spoken for. I'll be old and grey by the time they let me out. It's not like Geegaw will give me permission to escape."

Gadget hesitated. Would Geegaw have given her permission to escape? For the first time Lawhiney's problem reminded her of her own.

"We may have to share a cell. Assaulting a guard and escaping lawful custody are crimes in their own right, you know."

"Ah, nuts. No one is going to lock you up. On purpose, I mean."

"What time is it?"

"Just past four in the afternoon."

"We have to move quickly. Most lawyers keep regular office hours."

"We're going to a lawyer?"

"I'm not going to make the same mistake twice. We're going to the police but not like lambs to the slaughter. I'm going to hire three of the best lawyers in the city. One each. I don't think Dale will really need one but I'm not taking any chances."

"I mean you're paying for a lawyer for me too?"

"Think yourself lucky you're not getting my old one as a hand-me-down."

223

Detective Doyle climbed the stairs to his superior's office wearily. Like Gadget, he had been on his feet without sleep since the day before. Unlike her, he had not had the chance to take a nap. He raised a paw to knock on the door.

"Come!"

Doyle's direct superior was an overworked and surly mole by the name of Talpidae, who held the rank of lieutenant in the Street Watch Volunteer Force by virtue of having put in a good ten years of solid detective work more than Doyle. Doyle himself, a five-year veteran of the Sweepers, had every right to expect a promotion in the next couple of years but suspected that was about to change.

"What the heck is this itemised property list of stuff you allowed Hackwrench to remove from the crime scene?"

"Mostly clothing and personal effects, Sir." Doyle chose to take the question literally.

"AN AEROPLANE IS A PERSONAL EFFECT?"

"She is a qualified pilot and one of the registered owners of the aircraft, which we have no reason to think is in any way involved in the crime. How was I supposed to prevent her? She could have gone to a judge and got an order for us to release it."

"I'm surprised you didn't let her prise up the floorboards and take those too!"

"They don't actually have floorboards, sir. Their floor is actually the living wood of the tree their house is carved into."

"Dang it, Doyle! You know very well that a judge wouldn't have ordered us to release that aircraft. Judges are reasonable people. They know better!"

Doyle braced himself and forced his voice to sound as patient and reasonable as possible. He knew this would only make the lieutenant angrier, but at least he couldn't be accused of insubordination.

"In point of fact, I don't know that a judge _would_ have backed us up. The Rangers are a rescue organisation and if a judge had Gadget Hackwrench standing in front of him, giving him her big blue eyes while she told him she needed it to carry on the Ranger's work, then given that that she wasn't a suspect and that the plane isn't evidence, I don't know a judge would have sided with us at all."

"You have discretion! You could have refused her request to take the plane!"

"She could have challenged it and if she'd won it would have made us look weak and stupid."

Lt Talpidae made a sour face and sat down behind his desk, dropping a folder he had been holding onto Doyle's side of it. He said nothing. Doyle had the sickening suspicion that he had just won an argument with his boss and that meant that whatever happened next, his life wasn't about to get easier.

"The boys upstairs want this case in front of a jury by Monday." Talpidae told him. "There's some talk about whether you're the right man to handle it, what with it being high profile and everything."

"What? Well, of all the… You know there's no way we can get a conviction that quickly unless we have a confession."

"Maybe you'd be better off without this hot potato in your lap, Doyle. I still haven't had your paperwork on the protection racket we took down last week and the Kelsey girl is still missing."

"The paperwork is at the bottom of that pile in your in tray and the Kelsey girl most probably eloped with a boy who went missing at the same time. If you seriously want me to trace them I could still be working on it next year."

"Not to mention the four other cases you're working. When was the last time you got some sleep?"

"Last night. No, the night before. Look, you know what it'll mean if you replace me. It'll affect my reputation because it'll look like you don't think I can do the job. Plus you've got all the complications that go hand in hand with replacing a detective. The defence will try and make it sound like the investigation was screwed up from the very beginning and you had no choice but to start over."

"How long are you planning to keep at it before heading to bed?"

"I was supposed to sign out at six yesterday. Give me another couple of hours and I'll sign out at six today. Which of us hasn't skipped a night's sleep on the job?"

"No one I want on my team." Lt Talpidae answered.

"Exactly."

"You think you can get a confession out of him?"

Doyle considered it. "He's hiding something. More from himself than me, I think. You know how tough it is to get people to talk when they're like that."

Talpidae waved a paw to signal he knew. "Are you saying you can't do it?"

"You also know how they tell you every little detail when they finally do stop hiding whatever it is."

Talpidae put his large, trowel shaped paws together as though at prayer. "Can you do it or not?"

Doyle sighed. "Well, I can get him to tell the truth and I can get him to confess to the attempted murder of Dale Oakmont. I'm just afraid those may be two separate things."

"Are you saying he didn't do it? WE GOT HIM RED HANDED!"

"I keep considering it from another angle, Lieutenant. From what he's already admitted, and he has no reason to lie because it's pretty incriminating from his point of view, he walked in and caught Dale and Gadget Hackwrench in a compromising position. That gives him motive and when Gadget was missing it meant he was the last person to see both of them."

"Hallelujah! A break-though! You got motive and opportunity!"

"Right, but he made that statement before Gadget turned up alive and well. In light of this new development, his statement means there was someone who saw Dale after he did: Gadget Hackwrench."

Talpidae stared at him. "I remember you saying that Gadget WASN'T a suspect and that the plane ISN'T evidence. I didn't say anything because I thought it was just sloppy grammar."

"Chip doesn't want to think about it because he's in love with her but he sees it too, I think."

"And you gave her an aeroplane? Doyle this is a career killer! Everyone's going to crucify us if she sets down in Mexico or someplace else we can't touch her!"

"We're holding Chip for the crime. She offered to come in and give a statement explaining her whereabouts at the time in question. I had no reason to hold her."

"AN AEROPLANE! For crying out loud, Doyle! How likely is she to come in and confess if she did it?"

"She might. We're still holding Chip, remember?"

"You think she cares enough to confess to attempted murder?"

"Honestly? I suspect the only person who could tell you what Gadget Hackwrench feels for Chip Maplewood is Gadget Hackwrench."

"A few moments ago you were pretty sure Chip would confess."

"I still am. He can't bring himself to think of Gadget as a potential murderer, but when he does I think he'll see her as a suspect the way I do. When that happens I think he'll crack pretty quick, to protect her. The only question is whether that confession will be an honest one."

Talpidae rocked back and forwards, his brow furrowed as played out the sequence of events Doyle was conjuring for him. "I guess there's only a few ways this thing can play out. You think you can get a confession then good luck to you. Go get it. If Hackwrench does touch down in foreign parts, we'll need it even more than we do now."

"You'd use it? If Hackwrench fled the city?"

"Pretty girl like that who's already been hit by one scandal this year might have a good honest reason for wanting to avoid the publicity. It wouldn't prove anything either way."

"A suspect at flight doesn't prove anything?"

"If she's at flight then it's on wings you gave her!" Talpidae stabbed a long straight claw in the direction of Doyle's chest.

Doyle grimaced. "You'd do that though? Send Maplewood to jail if Gadget put down in another city?"

"I said it didn't prove anything. No doubt his defence team would make something of it and the jury would consider it."

"I doubt he'd let his defence team mention her name in that context."

"That's his decision."

"It's not justice."

"It's not necessarily a conviction either. For all we know Dale Oakmont will leap up and confess to whacking himself over the noggin as part of some elaborate joke. Until he does though, you carry on as we've agreed. Unless there are any other little surprises you want to spring on me."

Doyle sighed. He'd been putting this off but there was no way to avoid it now. "You've heard about the breakout from Shrankshaw?"

"Of course I've heard. Every law enforcement organisation, guard, volunteer watch group and vigilante within a hundred miles has heard."

"The list of escapees passed across my desk earlier. You should take a look at it."

"I already know it. That vicious Sheila character from the docks, McGee, two long term residents who will probably get homesick and turn themselves in after a couple of days and a Jane Doe. I hear they had a riot that hurt them pretty bad but they should have finished their headcount and worked out who the last one was by now."

"Jane Doe was the only name they had for her. She's the impostor that refused to give any other name for herself except Gadget Hackwrench at the trial a couple of months back."

Talpidae closed his tiny black eyes and groaned. He reached into a draw and withdrew a bottle of painkillers.

"It gets worse. She apparently jury-rigged some kind of hang-glider as part of the escape."

Talpidae took one of the pills. "Some might say that Gadget Hackwrench impression of hers is too close for comfort." He quipped.

"I didn't know about the escape when I met her at the tree-house but I could swear the girl I was talking to was the real Gadget. Not that my opinion counts for anything since I've never met the real Gadget Hackwrench before. That said, I gather from the Rangers I've interviewed that Gadget Hackwrench hasn't been herself since that business at the museum."

"Anyone would be shaken up. It might explain her doing something out of character, like whacking one of her best friends over the head, for instance?"

"I also had difficulty keeping up with her on the stairs. A little odd given that she's still recuperating from a bad accident and was confined to a wheelchair up until yesterday, wouldn't you say?"

Lt Talpidae took his hands from his eyes and looked straight at Doyle with an expression that suggested he better be joking. "Are you suggesting that the real Gadget Hackwrench might still be missing?"

Doyle considered. "It's a possibility and another reason why she might not come in like she promised. A reason that would still allow for Chip to be a murderer."

"But not the possibility that you had in mind?"

"No. It isn't."

"I shudder to ask what possibility you DID have in mind?"

Doyle said nothing for a moment, then: "Nothing. Just a crazy notion that crossed my mind."

"Don't keep me in suspense! I want to know what it is!"

"The story about the escape, the way she wouldn't give any other name but Hackwrench at the trial, the fact that the trial was rushed, almost a show trial if you listen to some people…"

"Bunch a bleeding heart do-gooders. That was a perfectly good trial and everyone knows she did it anyway."

"Lieutenant… what if we locked up the wrong Gadget Hackwrench?"

Lt Talpidae looked at him sternly. "You better be kidding. And if you're not kidding I don't want to know about it."

"Seriously, what if Chip is protecting Gadget, but Gadget isn't who he thinks she is?"

"Then what you've been telling me boils down to this: you gave a felon who's wanted across the entire country an aeroplane after she tried to kill Dale Oakmont and frame Chip Maplewood for the deed. Plus the real Gadget Hackwrench is on the run somewhere and as soon as she finds a newspaper reporter to talk to we're all going to look very silly. I don't think you want to be telling me that."

Doyle scratched his chin thoughtfully. "No, sir. I guess not. But what if that is what we're dealing with?"

"The impostor couldn't have broken out and then done this? Maybe stuffed the real Gadget in to another trash bag we haven't found yet?"

"No. The timing doesn't work."

"The Rangers would have to be pretty stupid to have an impostor in their house for weeks on end without realising something was up." Talpidae mused. The way he said it made it sound as though that could be a good thing as well as a bad thing.

"I sneaked a peek at Chip's records. He's not bad as a detective but he's not great either. No formal training and working for the Rangers means he's isolated from other detectives, so he's got no one to learn from and no one to bounce ideas off. His big weakness is a blind-spot the exact size and shape of Gadget Hackwrench but he had definitely realised something was up."

"What do you mean?"

"He'd reopened his own investigation into the impersonation of the Rangers. He interviewed a prison guard and one of Gadget's friends the evening before the attack on Oakmont and he had been asking questions at the hospital that treated Gadget before that. He had all the pieces, Lieutenant, he just couldn't bring himself to put them together."

Talpidae considered it. He was unconvinced. "Even so… you'd think the people who really knew her would figure it out in the first five seconds."

Doyle scratched his chin, wandering how to put his next point to the lieutenant. "You've seen plenty of people in intensive care, people you work with even. What's the first thing that always strikes you?"

Talpidae shrugged. "How different they look. Older, smaller, whatever, they don't look like themselves."

"The next of kin, you've seen what they go though plenty of times when someone's taken away from them. You must have seen their reaction when they get that special person back occasionally."

Talpidae smiled. He'd seen that a few times too in his time with the Sweepers. "They're besides themselves with joy. They don't care about anything."

"Sometimes they forget to care about things they should care about. I think maybe the Rangers went through that. At first 'Gadget' is in a coma, so it's not like she's going to give herself away by saying or doing the wrong thing if she's the impostor. Then she wakes up and the newspapers have been speculating that she might die or be brain damaged, so it's like a miracle and they aren't about to start asking questions."

"For two, three months?" Lt Talpidae scratched his head. "I can't see it myself."

"Bare in mind that Gadget has been through a terrible accident, suffered a severe blow to the head, the impostor is in prison so there's no reason to think she might not be who they think she is. Plus, all reports say the impostor was pretty good."

"She'd have to be boarding on the supernatural." Lt Talpidae said. His face brightened. "HA! Nice try, Doyle. You almost had me going! I'd forgotten that your fake Gadget was found in the wreckage of the Ranger plane and the impostor we jailed was found in the wreckage of a bar fight that broke out when she tried her hand at table dancing."

Doyle nodded. "If you had to choose between two identical Gadgets then you'd tend to chose the one wearing Gadget's clothes and lying in the wreckage of Gadget's aircraft, rather than the one wearing someone else's clothes who got caught doing something Gadget wouldn't be caught dead doing."

"We jailed the right Gadget! I mean the one who wasn't Gadget."

"I guess. Chip seemed to be working up the nerve to say different, though."

"He'd figured out what was going on between her and his best friend and it was his way of pretending it wasn't happening."

"Maybe." Doyle conceded.

"No maybe, I want to hear you say it, Doyle. We got the right person. We aren't going to look like fools over this." Lt Talpidae grinned in triumph.

Doyle hesitated.

"Come on! SAY IT!" Talpidae yelled at him.

Doyle flushed under his fur. He hung his head and but he didn't say anything.

Talpidae scowled and sunk back in his chair. "There's a Rescue Ranger down in those cells and another in the hospital and that's bad enough as it is. We've got a good case against Chip Maplewood and you've got two hours to make it complete with a confession. You sign out at six. Then you're done. Take tomorrow and the weekend off. You wouldn't even be considering this nonsense if you'd had a decent night's sleep."

Doyle slunk out of the office, closing the door behind him. "Two hours." He muttered on his way down the stairs. "In the movies the detective always gets twenty four."

224

"When did you last eat?" Lawhiney asked. "Because I had Monty's walnut wallaroos for dinner last night and I'm starving."

"Breakfast. Yesterday." Gadget reported. "Oatmeal."

"I want to get something to eat."

"We wait for Dale." Gadget laid down the law.

"Why?"

"I want to hear a few things from him."

Lawhiney giggled. "Dale and Gadget, sitting in a tree, K. I. S…"

"You better not finish that if you know what's good for you."

"You know what? You do talk at chipmunk speed! When you're angry anyway."

"You have to if you're going to win arguments with Chip and Dale."

"You had arguments with Chip and Dale?"

"You didn't?"

Lawhiney sucked her lower lip. "Do you think that helped or hurt my impression?"

"I'm not going to help you refine your act, Lawhiney."

"I quit, remember? I just want to know how close I got. Never figured that you'd be arguing with Chip and Dale. Thought you'd be one big happy family, all smiles and laughter."

"No. I hit Chip over the head with a frying pan once. He bit Dale when one of their play fights turned real and Dale looked like he was winning. We have two to three really loud arguments a week and that's not counting Chip and Dale's usual private matches which are never seem to end."

"They didn't argue much in front of me."

Gadget turned her full attention on her sister. "No?"

"Maybe it was because I was supposed to be recovering from a near fatal accident. Everybody seemed really subdued around me most of the time. Hey, would you like to hear about my welcome home party?"

"**Your** welcome home party?"

Lawhiney winced. "Your welcome home party. I mean – well, I guess they'll throw you one too."

"They better." Gadget growled. Her tone indicated that attendance would be mandatory.

"Coming through!" Yelled a cheerful, familiar voice.

Gadget got off the bed she had been resting on. Lawhiney hid behind the door. When it opened Dale was wheeled in by a young looking packrat in a white coat. Lawhiney closed the door behind him with a smile.

"Did ya miss me?" Dale asked the world at large with a bright and cheery smile.

Gadget's eyes went from Lawhiney to the packrat and back again. If this stranger turned around their secret would be exposed and the situation would be out of her control. Lawhiney had trapped him in the room with them. Were they supposed to whack him over the head too?

The young packrat threw a glance over his shoulder at Lawhiney then turned back to survey Gadget with the kind of keen interest that she had received many times before. When he had finished Gadget's cool blue eyes were waiting for him, looking back with wary suspicion.

"Hi." He said. "You must be Gadget."

Gadget's jaw dropped.

"How come a total stranger can tell the difference between us when my best friends can't?" she wailed in a hurt, childish voice.

The packrat winced while behind him, Lawhiney laughed.

"Ah nuts, Gadget! Are you going to be like this all the time from now on?" Dale threw his hands up in disgust.

"I want to know!"

"Gadget, this is the doctor I told you about, Doctor Bell." Lawhiney explained. "He wanted to meet you, to make sure you weren't a hallucination, I think. So we arranged for him to be the one who took Dale to ultrasound and back again."

"You saw me while I was asleep?"

"You were exhausted and covered in bed sheets to hide you from view." Doctor Bell reassured her. "This is the first time I've really been able to take a look at you."

"You can tell the difference though? We don't look that much alike?"

Doctor Bell frowned. "I can't comment as to how much alike you were before all this happened because I didn't know either of you then, but now? You look more like sisters than twins."

"Sisters." Gadget nodded furiously.

"Miss Hackwrench, I'd like you to know how worried your friends were when they thought it was you who might die. At least one of them was always by your bedside. Dale, Monty, Zipper, they took shifts watching over you, holding your hand and talking to you. When Chip arrived he was beside himself. He'd made himself sick trying to get back in time to say goodbye because he thought you were on your deathbed." Doctor Bell watched her closely, reassuring himself his words were making a difference. "When Lawhiney opened her eyes, everyone was overjoyed. They were so grateful not to lose you… I've seen a lot of things working in this hospital and if there's one thing I've learned it's that love and pain blind people, even to something that's staring them in the face."

Gadget hung her head. She felt a little like crying. She also felt queasy but she put that down to not having eaten in over twenty-four hours.

"For what it's worth, I don't think anyone would have cared whether I woke up or not." Lawhiney put in.

"Ah shucks, Lawhiney, that ain't true!" Dale smiled over his shoulder at her. "Or have you forgotten that your old associates put in a special appearance to rub you out in case you squealed on them?"

"What's this?" Gadget asked.

"Oh, big kidnap attempt on Lawhiney here." Doctor Bell said. "Someone tried to strangle her in a lift."

"Seriously?" Gadget's eyes nearly popped.

"Actually, that was Brandon. He… was fun for a while. I think he might be the father of my child. At least that's what I said to get him to stop strangling me and to pretend he thought I was you when they broke into the elevator." Lawhiney unburdened her soul. "To tell you the truth, I think he told the others it was a rescue attempt and only tried to kill me because he was jealous. He was in love with me."

Doctor Bell shook his head. "We never suspected a thing. We should have realised exactly what had happened when Gadget's records showed up but we decided it had to be the records that were wrong. Doctor Fisk even thought he was starting to go senile because Lawhiney's body didn't match his memory of treating you, Miss Hackwrench."

"However this happened, it still leaves us a mess to clear up." Gadget said shortly.

"How so?" Dale asked as he eased himself back into bed.

"Chip is in jail for something Lawhiney did, namely clunking you."

Dale allowed himself a huge, evil grin. "Well, we could just leave him there…"

Gadget blinked and stared at him. "Just leave him there?"

"Heh, yeah, why not?"

"Behind bars?"

Dale laughed. "Locked up tighter than tuna in a can!"

"With all those other criminals?"

"Ah, Chip's a tough guy. He can take care of himself." Dale smirked. "Besides, it's not like he's never clunked me over the head, even if he didn't do it this time."

"DALE OAKMONT! SHAME ON YOU!" Gadget exploded at him. "Do you have any IDEA what Chip must be going through?"

Dale practically hid under the bed sheets. "Gee, I only meant for a couple of days! Lawhiney could catch a flight back to Hawaii, or somewhere. You could catch up on your sleep. I could have the TV to myself for once…"

"The idea does have certain attractions." Doctor Bell put in. "In spite of what Lawhiney has done, she has suffered the most in all this. I don't believe locking her up for years on end would serve any useful purpose. Besides, there's her child to consider."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this!" Gadget exclaimed.

"Come on, admit it, Gadget! It's tempting! After Mister Great Detective left you sitting behind bars for so long?" Lawhiney teased. "I heard he even went to visit you and still couldn't figure it out, so don't tell me he doesn't owe you a little payback."

Gadget glared at all of them. Her face a mask of righteous anger copied, although she didn't realise it, from Bubbles's patented angry mom number nine stare.

Dale stared back at her with big brown eyes that had gotten him out of so much trouble as a cub. The good Doctor seemed to take a sudden and unexpected interest in examining his toenails. Even Lawhiney dutifully assumed the hands behind the back, head lowered pose of a chastised little girl, ready to say sorry for her misdeeds.

Gadget held the expression perfectly. Then she realised where she was copying it from and the memory of Bubbles standing over her with the exact same expression threatened to tip her over into hysterics. Lawhiney sensed the weakness first and dared a little smile. Gadget couldn't hold back the smile that forced itself upon her and finally surrendered to an army of silent giggles.

"Okay." She gave in. "Maybe a little payback. And I'll do my best to keep Lawhiney out of jail. But we do it MY way."

225

Doyle pulled the chair out from behind the table and sat down in it. The room was darkened to give a feel of intimacy and make the peepholes in the walls less noticeable but the desk lamp on his side of the table was angled into Chip's eyes.

"I'd like to re-cover some old ground with you Mister Maplewood." Doyle began carefully.

"We've already gone over it fifty times or more."

Some junior detective who needed interview practice had been given the job of keeping Chip talking, partly in the hope he would make a mistake, partly just to wear him down. Doyle ground his teeth.

"If you think back carefully, I'm sure it's only twenty times or so… Would you like a pot of fresh coffee? I know I would." He needed Chip awake and thinking clearly if he was going to get him to see things his way.

Chip looked at him cynically. "If you're trying to work out how tired I am, then I'll tell you. I haven't slept in something like thirty-six hours. I've gone longer without sleep on rescues, so I'm holding up pretty good. You go ahead and drink your coffee in front of me. I know better than to expect anything more than basic courtesy from a Sweeper who thinks he's dealing with a crook and mostly not even that."

Doyle held up a hand to stem the flow of chipmunk chatter. "Yes or no. Do you want any coffee?"

Chip stopped and then cocked his head on one side, still unable to decide whether Doyle was fooling with him or not.

"Yes." He said finally.

"Then I'll have some brought in." Doyle said, without rising from his chair or giving any signal.

"Is there a particular reason that you're treating me decently, or is this just part of your interview technique."

"I've been to the tree house. I've read your files."

"YOU WHAT?" Chip leapt out of his chair. "You had no right to do that! Those files were confidential! Not to mention property of the Rescue Rangers!"

"And evidence in an attempted murder investigation." Doyle spread his hands wide as though inviting Chip to play into them.

Chip considered his position and sank back into the uncomfortable chair he had been given, his arms crossed. "I hope you left them as well organised as they were when you found them."

"I'm sure that you'll find something out of order. I know from past experience how picky someone can be about their files."

Chip lifted an eyebrow. "You do that to other detectives in the Sweepers?"

Doyle winced. "We kind of share the files here, Mister Maplewood. We have an office clerk who keeps them in good order."

In truth, it had been the office clerk Doyle had been referring to when he said how picky people could get over their files. He tried not to let that show in his face. He didn't want this to turn into a shouting match.

"I don't believe there's anything in my files relevant to this situation. I'd like to know the reason you thought otherwise."

Doyle's jaw dropped. Somewhere along the line, one of the people in this room had lost track of who was interrogating who. He hoped it was Chip, because he knew he was being watched. When he shut his mouth again, his teeth clicked. Still, he kept his voice polite when he replied.

"I'm asking the questions, remember?"

"I didn't ask one." Chip smiled. "I stated an opinion and told you something that I'd like. Both should be useful to someone conducting an interrogation."

"Word games." Doyle said disdainfully. "I don't have to justify how I run an investigation to you, Mister Maplewood. Not while you're under suspicion of attempted murder, not afterwards if you're acquitted. I don't answer to you." _I answer to an ill-tempered mole with lower back pain, who might transfer me to juvenile division if I mess this up._

Chip might as well have read his mind. "No, you answer to a hard-nosed overworked boss who probably isn't too happy with you right now. You've got a Rescue Ranger in the hospital, assaulted in his own home, and you've wasted a full day trying to build a case against the only detective in the city with an even chance of solving this case."

"That hard-nosed boss thinks you're guilty. He wants me to get a confession out of you. I told him I'd have it by six."

It was Chip's turn to feel his jaw go slack.

"Six is when I clock out." Doyle twisted the knife a little. Then he was all business, shuffling his own case file and checking his notes. "Now then, I'd like to go over your earlier statement. You said you walked in on Dale and Gadget. You gave me a broad idea what they were doing but I need you to be more specific."

Chip looked dazed

"I need to know everything you can remember about that." Doyle prompted him.

"What, so you can sell the details to the newspapers? What difference does it make who was on top?" Chip shook his head.

"I need to know exactly what you saw to see if it fits with the evidence I have, to confirm that what you've been telling me is reliable, that you're reliable."

"What do you want to know?"

"Since you brought it up, let's start with who was on top."

"Gadget was."

"And Dale was…?"

"Laying on the floor."

"What state was the room in?"

"The room?"

"If we enter the room and find signs of a struggle and it was neat and tidy when you last saw it, that will tell us something, don't it?"

Chip sighed heavily and dredged up the memory of the worst moment his life. "I didn't really notice at the time. The room was in disarray. Not the whole room, but the part by the door and Gadget's worktable was. Scrap paper was all over the floor and the poster from above her worktable had been ripped down and was on the floor. The rest of the room was tidy though, all the dust sheets were still covering Gadget's inventions."

"Is that unusual?"

"She hadn't touched them since she came back from the hospital. That's unusual for her but she was badly injured."

"So this was her first time back in the workshop? That you're aware of?"

"No. She spent nearly every day in there since she got her crutches, practicing to walk again."

"But she didn't touch her inventions?"

"No. It's not like her, but she's been concentrating on her recovery. We all just wanted her fit and well again."

Doyle recalled with a pang of conscience that he hadn't yet told Chip that Gadget had turned up fit and well. He was saving the news for later. "How did they react when you opened the door?"

"Gadget saw me first. She looked triumphant. Like she'd really achieved something to be proud of."

"Triumphant? That you had seen her? Do you think she was trying to make you jealous?"

Chip looked at Doyle as though the Sweeper detective had just announced he was from another planet. "Gadget? She wasn't like that. I know other girls can be, but Gadget was sweet and honest. She's not a manipulator. She just didn't see me at first. When she did…" Chip cursed. "I'll always remember her face…"

"Must have been quite a sight." Doyle prompted when it became clear Chip had lapsed into silence. "The girl you love and your best friend, everything scattered around them in disarray, including your plans for the future. I can see why it would fix itself in your memory. "

"Her clothes weren't in disarray." Chip said as though he had just woken up from a nightmare. He looked around him as finding himself in unfamiliar surroundings.

"What?"

Chip stared off into space as though seeing the scene again. "Her clothes weren't in disarray. They were clean, no oil-stains like she usually has, and the sleeves were rolled up but they weren't… scattered or in disarray. I don't think she had more than her top button undone."

"Chip, I understand it's a big deal for you, but what she was wearing isn't relevant right now. I need you to focus on the room around them. Was there anything heavy visible like a tool or one of your weapons? Lying on the floor next to them, perhaps?"

"It is relevant." Chip answered as one who has seen the light. "It's relevant because she was wearing her overalls at the time."

"What?" Doyle didn't get it for a moment. Then he remembered the clothes Gadget had been wearing when he had met her at the tree house. When he got it, he saw why it was so important to Chip. "Oh! One of those lavender jumpsuits that cover everything, right down to her ankles?"

"She was still wearing them. Even the belt was still done up. I'm sure of it."

Doyle sat back and watched Chip enjoy his eureka moment. The chipmunk looked as if someone had just handed his life back to him. In a moment he would remember where he was and why. If he had actually done anything to answer for, that would be the moment he would breakdown.

When the moment passed and Chip met Doyle's eyes again the chipmunk might have been a different person. The pain Doyle had seen in his eyes before, glittering like broken glass, was gone. It had been replaced by a clearness that for the first time made Doyle feel as if he was talking to an equal.

"Kind of hard to misbehave while you're covered from collar to ankle, isn't it?" Doyle asked with a deadpan expression.

"She wasn't misbehaving." Chip said with authority. "I misinterpreted what I saw."

"Maybe we should take another look at everything else you saw, then." Doyle suggested, helpfully. "Tell me exactly what happened, all over again."

"I opened the door to ask Gadget if she had seen Dale. I saw her sitting on him, one leg either side. Her hair was mussed and she looked tired but very happy, then she saw me and her face fell. She looked like she'd been caught doing something wrong, as though she expected me to tell her off or something. I misunderstood, apologised and shut the door."

"What did Dale do?"

"Nothing. He just lay there. I don't think he even knew I was there."

"He didn't react when you spoke? To apologize?"

"No. He might as well have been asleep for all I could tell."

"And the room. Describe it again, this time bearing in mind what you now know."

"There were screwed up balls of paper on the floor from something Gadget had been working on. I could see the desk chair had been pulled back as though she had been interrupted while she was writing or drawing something and hadn't had time put it back under the desk. The poster she had over the desk had been torn down and was next to them."

"Was there anything on the desk?"

"I couldn't see. I was outside the door way, the door was blocking my view."

"Does Gadget have more than one poster up in her workshop?"

"No, she has lots of posters. Workshop tips, the periodic table, that sort of thing."

"Then you must have been able to see the desk, or how would you know which poster it was? You said the poster from over her desk was on the floor."

"I recognized it. It was the one on – " Chip stopped. His eyes went wide.

_He gets it! _Doyle thought. _He gets it and this is the wrong moment because now he'll clam up!_

There was no time for subtly or politeness now. He had Chip on the ropes and he had to keep him there if he was going to meet his deadline.

"THINK!" Doyle yelled in Chip's face. "I'm going to get a full tour of that workshop from a couple of specialists, so tell me while it can still do some good!"

"Artificial Resuscitation!" Chip gasped. "Mouth to mouth. CPR. That sort of thing." He finished weakly.

Doyle sat back. This was it, all or nothing now. Chip wasn't faking this, Doyle was fairly sure. Now he'd lay all his cards on the table and either Chip would confess or he would be the star witness at the trial of the century.

The trial of Gadget Hackwrench.

226

"Chip, listen to me. I need you to put the pieces together now. I've got my ideas but I want to hear it from you. Gadget and Dale weren't making out when you saw them so what were they doing?"

"Gadget was resuscitating Dale, using the poster from above her desk as a guide." Chip deduced. "But that doesn't make sense. All the Rangers have had first response medical training… I mean, we don't know as much as a doctor or a nurse, but it's the same training the ambulance crews get. Gadget's used CPR dozens of times, she knows it back to front."

"Is that important?" Doyle asked.

"Yes. I know it's important but I don't know how. I just know it's something that doesn't fit, so that means it's a piece of the puzzle that I haven't found a place for yet." Chip didn't need to explain any further. They were both detectives and on some things they spoke a common language, whatever their differences.

"What does the fact that Gadget was doing CPR on Dale tell us?"

"That Dale had already been injured at that time and that Gadget knew this. Since he didn't have any other injuries on him when we found him in the bag, that means he had the head injury when I saw him with Gadget and that he most likely received it in Gadget's workshop. The fact he is still – " Chip's voice broke but he regained control over it " – that is, he was alive the last time I heard, means that Gadget was either present when he received that wound or she found him immediately afterwards, within a couple of minutes. The fact that she didn't tell anyone what had happened in spite of the fact she talked to two of us afterwards demonstrates a… deliberate intention to conceal what had happened. The inference is that Gadget put Dale in the rubbish sack… and then asked Monty to throw the trash sack into the human garbage."

Doyle stared into Chip's eyes. Chip stared back and for a long moment neither of them spoke.

"You understand what you're saying?" Doyle asked gently.

"Yes."

"I have to make sure you understand. You're accusing your team mate, Gadget Hackwrench, the person you claim to love, of hurting Dale, your best friend."

"Yes." Chip nodded vigorously. "But she didn't try to kill him. She resuscitated him. He's alive because of her. That means she didn't want him dead."

Doyle scratched his head, pretending to be mystified. In fact, he had thought of several possibilities to answer his next question. "If she didn't want him dead, why do you think she tried to get Monty to throw him in the garbage?"

"I don't know. It would make more sense if she had asked Monty to do something that would have revealed Dale was in the sack. Put him in the sack to hide him from anyone who saw him before she left the tree house, arrange for him to be found afterwards because she wanted him to receive proper medical attention once she was clear."

Doyle made a mental note to ask Monty about this. As far as detection went, it seemed like a leap in the dark, but Chip had known the people concerned for years on a daily basis and it gave him an advantage Doyle couldn't match. "Did Monty say anything to you about what it was when he asked you to take out the trash instead?"

"No."

"Okay. So Gadget hurt Dale –"

"We only know that she was afraid she'd be blamed for it." Chip interrupted.

Doyle gave him a hard stare, daring him to be this stupid. Chip stared back at him, resolutely taking the dare.

Doyle lowered his eyes first. "Okay, let's consider that. Did Gadget have a reason to fear being blamed for something that wasn't her fault?"

"She briefly left the Rangers a couple of years ago when one of her inventions malfunctioned and injured our team mate, Zipper. We held her responsible but she couldn't have known what would happen."

Doyle considered it. "You said that the dust sheets were still on all her inventions. That she hadn't touched them since she returned from hospital."

"All the machines I could see from the door were covered. It's true she hadn't touched any of them that I know of, but that was out of character for her and she'd just had the cast removed from her leg that day."

Doyle lowered his eyes and thought it over. "Did she try to cover it up when Zipper was hurt?"

"No. We were all present when that happened. But after everything she's been through, would it be so surprising if she was frightened of losing us again?"

Doyle scowled and put on his best hard-bitten detective look. "I'm not convinced, Maplewood. I don't buy it. You've just nursed her back from a coma, now you're telling me that Gadget believed you'd put her out on the street over an accident. I've been to your tree house. I've seen the warning signs. You wouldn't have been mad at her for getting hurt, you would have been mad at Dale for being somewhere he wasn't supposed to be."

Chip was silent for a time. Doyle was right. Chip knew it and it showed in his face. He opened his mouth to speak and he couldn't.

"While we're on the subject of Gadget's past history, has she ever hit anyone over the head? Maybe when she was startled, perhaps frightened?"

"Asides from when she was working as a Rescue Ranger? A few months ago some one began hassling her in a hardware store. Mistook her for the impostor you jailed. She had to whack him with a spanner to get him to back off."

"Anything else you want to tell me?" Doyle spoke in the tones of a grandmaster pronouncing checkmate.

Chip began pleading Gadget's case in earnest. "When I walked into the hospital room after her accident. She was so scared. She hid under the bed sheets. She thought I was going to be mad at her for crashing the Ranger Plane." Chip spoke tentatively, like someone either letting go of something they wanted to hang on to, or reaching out for something they weren't sure they were allowed to have.

"Did she have reason to be scared of you?"

Chip shook his head, his eyes wide and earnest. "No! Never!"

"But you're telling me she was anyway?"

"I think so. When things went wrong."

Doyle sat back. They were coming to the end now. "So you're telling me that Gadget might have decided to run away, not because she was worried about being locked up but because she was afraid of what you might do to her? Even though she had no cause to worry?"

"That's right." Chip took the bait.

Doyle gave a subtle smile. "I don't think that will fly Mister Maplewood. See, Gadget Hackwrench seems like an awfully smart girl and she's known you for years, so I just can't see how she'd run if she had nothing to be afraid of."

"I never hurt Gadget."

"Did you hurt anyone else?"

"I already told you that Dale and I rough-housed regularly."

"You did." Doyle acknowledged. "So anyway, Gadget ran away."

"Yes."

"From you."

Chip choked. "Yes."

"But now you're locked up, so there's no reason for her to stay away any more?"

Chip hesitated. He hung his head, something like shame written on his face. "I guess not."

"That would explain why she came back this morning." Doyle dropped his bombshell.

Chip's face went slack.

Doyle waited several minutes. He cast a glance at the human digital watch hanging on the wall and saw that it was getting on to half past five. This was about the time he needed Chip to start telling him what he wanted to hear if he was going to be finished by six. Chip's face was beginning to show emotion again and his eyes were beginning to mist over with tears.

"Guess she doesn't have a problem with you taking the heat for her." Doyle gave him another little push.

"Gadget – Gadget wouldn't do that." Chip's voice cracked.

"I saw her just this morning, at the tree house. Asked her a few questions. Asked her out-right what happened, in fact. She had a perfect opportunity to tell me the whole thing. Explain it was an accident and that she hid Dale until she could get out of the house because she was afraid for her own well-being." Doyle opened a blank page in the legal pad he was using and picked up a pen. He began writing as though he were doing nothing more than doodling to pass the time. "To tell you the truth, I don't think we'd even have arrested her if she told a story like that. Especially if she could back it up by showing me the invention that malfunctioned."

Doyle looked up sharply, catching Chip's eye unexpectedly.

"She didn't." Doyle told him sharply. "I guess that means she must be good at hiding things, wouldn't you say? If someone had asked me while I was talking to her, I would have bet anything she didn't know a thing about Dale being injured or your being in here. Did you suspect anything when she saw you in your study? I know Monty didn't when she asked him to take out the trash."

"No. I had… other things on my mind." Chip said weakly.

"Oh yeah, that's right. You did." Doyle began chatting casually as though discussing a day at work with an old friend. "Still, the way she covered things up puts a different complexion on things. Makes them more serious. Don't you worry, though. We'll get her. She promised to come in this afternoon, as a matter of fact. Maybe she will, maybe she won't. If she doesn't we'll put a warrant out for her. Of course then the press will get hold of it but that just means more people will be on the lookout for her. She's easy to recognize, we'll get her."

Doyle continued to write, almost idly, waiting for Chip to speak.

Chip sat there and said nothing.

"Hunt her down, you might say." Doyle added one final straw to break the chipmunk's back.

"You can't really think that Gadget did this." Chip whispered hoarsely.

"I don't see anyone telling me any different." Doyle shrugged. "I don't think she'll hold up under questioning as well as you have. Dare say we'll have a full confession before long and if she runs, well, that's just about as bad as being caught red handed… Oh, we'll hang on to you a little longer." Doyle added as an after thought. "Just until we're sure we have things straight, but you should be home by tomorrow."

"You're bluffing. This is a ploy." Chip accused.

Doyle checked the digital watch on the wall again. He turned back to Chip with a shrug. "It happened in her workshop. She's the one who asked Monty to throw out the trash. I figure I've just as much chance of convicting her as you." Doyle looked down at what he was writing again. "Besides, you say you didn't do it."

"No. You're trying to force me into making a confession."

"Why should I? There are only two interpretations of last night's events. One is that you did it and the other is that Gadget did it and is scared of you. So scared she had to flee her own home and only came back when she knew you were going to jail. If that's the case, she clearly doesn't care about you and, to be frank," Doyle stabbed a finger towards Chip's face, "I don't see much evidence that you care about her."

"What do you mean? That's crazy talk!" Chip's eyes were wild, as though the last shreds of his life were coming down about his ears now.

"You've known Gadget for how long? Three years? Fought with your best friend over her, worked with her, lived under the same roof with her but - and here's the funny thing - so far as I can tell everyone who knows her still considers her single mouse. You told me that you had that ring waiting for her finger but tell me, Mister Maplewood, did you ever even ask her out on a date?"

Chip couldn't speak. He shook his head.

"You didn't love her, you just wanted to possess her!" Doyle roared in disgust. "You wouldn't let anyone else have a chance with her, not even your best friend, Dale! You kept her like human with a pet! It was wrong, Chip! Part of you knew it was wrong, too! That's why you could never bring yourself to ask her out on a date."

"That's not true… I was leaving town so they could be together."

"You were leaving so you wouldn't have to look at her with someone else!" Doyle shot back.

"Maybe, but that doesn't mean – "

"It means you don't love her, you probably never have and she certainly doesn't love you. The only evidence to suggest otherwise is the evidence that says you attacked Dale in a fit of jealous rage." Doyle held Chip's gaze for half a minute or more. "That's what your version of last night's events means."

Chip looked away. Doyle could practically see the cogs turning trying to make sense of it all.

"It's not true." Chip said when he looked back. "It can't be like that."

"Maybe it's not like that, Chip. Maybe you caught Gadget and Dale enjoying some time together and when you finished licking your wounds you got good and mad. Maybe you went and hit Dale over the head with first blunt instrument you could find so you could have Gadget all to yourself. If that's the case there's no point in me trying to squeeze a confession out of you by saying Gadget's going to take the fall, because you don't love her and you won't put yourself in harm's way for her."

Chip licked his lips.

227

"So he confessed, huh?"

"By six o'clock. Detective Kent owes me a dinner." Doyle said, wiping his name off the chalkboard the Sweepers used to keep track of who was where.

"I hear that place near the Orient theatre is pretty good." Lt Talpidae chewed on a piece of meat jerky.

"Isn't that the one where the impostor was picked up?" Doyle asked.

"Yeah." The old mole nodded. "Since you were showing an interest in that direction anyway, you might as well have a good reason for going there in your own time. That way it's not a wasted trip, whatever you find."

Doyle turned and lifted an eyebrow at his boss. "It'll have to be on Monday now. You gave me the next few days off, remember?"

"With a confession in hand, I dare say we can hold the fort without you." Lt Talpidae's sarcasm masked a compliment that made Doyle smile, albeit ruefully, on his way to the door.

"Gee, lieutenant, are you sure?"

The mole got the door for him. "Get out-a-here ya bum! You've earned a night's sleep!"

They stood together at the top of the stairs that led down to the precinct lobby for a moment, sharing the silence of old friends while Doyle fastened his trench coat. Talpidae was holding the confession Chip had signed almost mechanically a few minutes earlier and now he examined it again as if he were planning to frame it and hang it on his office wall.

"Think it'll stand up in court?" Talpidae asked.

"Yes. Don't know that it'll stand up to Dale waking up though." Doyle looked sideways at his superior to catch his reaction.

Talpidae was looking sideways too and met Doyle's eye easily. "Maybe he won't wake up and, if he does, who's to say he'll remember anything after a blow to the head like that?"

"Right." Doyle agreed.

"You still think she did it, don't you, son?" Talpidae said gently.

"Did she come in?" Doyle asked the question as an answer.

"Nope, and to tell you the truth I don't think she's likely to. From the feel of things she's had it pretty rough lately, what with her reputation getting dragged through the mud by the impostor and the hijacking and the kidnap attempt. Add to that whatever was going between her and the other Rangers behind closed doors and… well, I wouldn't blame her if she didn't. Not one little bit." Talpidae sighed. He sounded a little disappointed.

"You don't think she did it?" Doyle asked flat out.

Talpidae shook his head.

"Why not? Chip says she hit someone with a wrench for bothering her in a store a while back. He also says she nearly lost her job as a Ranger a few years ago when one of her inventions misfired and hurt a team mate. He openly admits she was scared of him blaming her when things went wrong and the crime was committed in her workshop." Doyle stared at him and shook his head in exasperation.

Talpidae lifted one of the large bushy eyebrows that covered his midnight black button eyes. "You're over-tired and you're still keyed up from interviewing Chip. You're off shift now and you're talking to your boss in a public place, not a suspect in the box."

Doyle blushed. "Sorry, lieutenant. Guess I need that time off more than I thought."

"That's why I gave it to you, Doyle. You're getting punch drunk." Talpidae said with a wink. "Don't worry about it. To answer your question, I worked with the Rangers once. Chip's got a temper on him. He's slugged Dale plenty of times and the odds were bound to run out on him sooner or later. Seen him do it myself a couple of times. But Gadget… all Gadget wants to do is help people and be left alone in return."

Talpidae looked at Doyle steadily and went on. "Gadget may have changed since then, or it could be that after everything she's been through she just reached her breaking point, but this I know for a fact: The first really true thing Chip Maplewood said to you was that Sweepers and Rescue Rangers work the same territory and both get resources from the City Council. The boys upstairs on the top floor think of the Rangers as competition. I spent most of the morning with them while you were at the tree house."

Doyle listened with increasing horror. In the five years he had been a Sweeper he had never doubted that he was on the right side. Until now. "Boss, do you know what you're saying?"

"We don't know what happened last night. We can only guess. We might think we know, but I've worked this job long enough to know different. I've seen cases that looked rock solid get blindsided by one tiny detail that totally blows them apart. For all we know, Chip did try to kill his best friend, just the way it says right here." Talpidae tapped Doyle on the chest with the confession.

"But –"

"But nothing. I just told you! The boys upstairs want to see a Ranger go down over this and go down hard. Fair won't come into it. If you have to pick one of them for this, which one would you choose?"

Doyle thought about it. When he could look at Talpidae again he understood, but he didn't like it.

"Like I said," Talpidae drove his point home. "Gadget's been through a lot lately. You didn't force Chip to confess, he was the one who got caught with his best friend's unconscious body in a trash bag. Maybe he did do it and, if he didn't and he signed this, he was making the same choice I just put to you."

"It still stinks. What about Gadget?"

"Forget her." Talpidae advised him. "Chances are she'll be teaching mechanics in another city by Monday. She ain't coming in." With that the old mole turned away and opened the door to the squad room.

Doyle was thinking about what he would do if he were asked to testify when his eyes registered something his brain refused to believe. Turning his head slightly he called over his shoulder. "Boss, I don't think things aren't going to play out the way you planned. Gadget Hackwrench just walked in through our front door."

228

"Feel like putting in some more overtime, Doyle?" Talpidae asked, frowning.

"Sure, lieutenant." Doyle agreed without hesitating. "I'll stick around, if only to see how much more messed up this can get."

"You feel like you're about to drop off or anything, hand over to Kent or Rosewood." Talpidae told him. "I'm going to let the boys upstairs know what we've got so far."

Doyle felt as if someone riding on his back had jabbed him with a pair of spurs. "Say, just one thing…"

Talpidae turned back from the door. "Sure, Doyle. What is it?"

"Give that confession back to me and let's pretend I didn't get around to telling you about it. Until we know where the chips are going to fall, so to speak."

"Cute." Talpidae said as he eyed the papers in his hand. "Okay. It only makes sense to hear what Miss Hackwrench has to say before we get anyone's hopes up about this being simple. Saves us having to tell them it all fell apart later."

Doyle accepted the transcript of Chip's confession with relief. "I'll use interview room three."

"Try and get it over with as quickly as possible." Talpidae's eyes flickered to where Gadget was standing. "One way or the other."

Doyle folded the confession and tucked it into his coat pocket. Then he descended the stairs and walked over to where Gadget was standing. She saw him coming and locked on to him with her those big blue eyes of hers when he was still half way across the lobby. Doyle fixed his best polite smile on his face and held out a paw to shake hands. He hoped the smile was as convincing as it was when he was fresh.

"Miss Hackwrench, nice of you to come in." Doyle opened pleasantly.

Gadget accepted his hand without speaking. She smiled with a calculating glint in her eye. A well dressed white rat who had been standing a little way off moved up to stand by her shoulder and sized up Doyle without being impressed by anything he saw.

Doyle scowled at him. "You mind giving us some space, pal? I don't believe this concerns you."

"Yes." The rat answered smoothly.

"What?"

"Yes, I'd mind giving you some space, and yes, it does concern me." The rat returned Doyle's cold stare as if he were commissioner of police and Doyle had just challenged him for littering.

"Who are you?" Doyle demanded.

"Alan Trent-Neal, of the law firm Baker, Neal and Fogg. I am this lady's attorney and will be representing her. I will be present for the statement she intends to make and throughout any interview you subsequently conduct."

Doyle rocked back on his feet. This was unexpected. It made perfect sense, of course, and if he had been in Gadget's position no one would have gotten him through the doors of the police station without a lawyer unless they were holding a gun to his head. Still, his appraisal of Gadget that morning hadn't suggested that she was wise enough, experienced enough, or cynical enough to lawyer up this early in the game.

"Okay." Doyle said after a moment. "You're aware that she isn't under arrest, so there's no actual reason for her to have a lawyer."

"You're aware that she has a right legal advice and representation if she wishes it, which she does. If you object to her having a lawyer present to observe that her rights are respected I will advise her to leave which she is, of course, completely entitled to do, freely and at any time."

Unless of course you arrest her, in which case I will make your life unbearable. This last went unspoken because it didn't really need saying. Every lawyer and policeman who had ever worked a day understood it perfectly.

Doyle reapplied his polite smile. "We have an interview room ready, right this way."

The interview room was the same room Doyle had thought of as the "interrogation room" when he was talking to Chip fifteen minutes earlier. He wondered whether Gadget could catch a trace of Chip's scent in the stale air. He doubted it. Not over the stink of old fear that worked it's way deep into the walls. He nodded to the junior detective with the legal pad to begin taking notes and made sure the light wasn't in anybodies eyes. It was too soon for that.

"So, you said you'd like to make a statement." Doyle double-checked himself to make sure he pronounced the word "confession" as "statement".

"I certainly would." Gadget agreed.

Doyle let his smile widen and stretched out his open paws invitingly. "Fire away."

"May I ask a question first?" Gadget enquired sweetly.

It can't be "Where's the bathroom?" or "How long do you think I'll get for this?" Doyle thought. It's too early for any of that, so I just know it's going to be something that ruins my day.

"Go ahead." He said smoothly.

"The hospital did inform you that Dale woke up this afternoon, didn't they?"

Doyle felt his jaw drop. It just got better and better, if the Rangers were as close as people said, Dale would probably deny everything and refuse to press charges and Doyle might as well be playing poker without any cards in his hand. True, he still had Chip's confession in his pocket and attempted murder didn't require the victim to press charges or even testify unless the case required it, but no smart prosecutor would pursue a case where the victim was testifying for the defence.

Regaining his composure as quickly as he could, Doyle forced a polite half-smile on to his face and began fencing.

"Perhaps I should go and see what he has to say before we continue this interview, Miss Hackwrench." He tried to make it sound as if he were letting her off the hook but in reality it was a desperate throw of the dice. If Doyle spoke to Dale and Dale was uncooperative or couldn't remember anything helpful, she would be in the clear. Doyle's one hope of building a case against her was to convince her that a complete confession before Dale spoke to the police was her one shot at clemency.

"But I've come all this way now. Besides, I can tell you exactly what Doyle has to say. You see, I was there when he woke up." Gadget smiled brightly.

Doyle suppressed a groan. "You visited him? The hospital let you see him?"

"Was there a reason they shouldn't have?"

"They let you speak to the victim and primary witness in a case of attempted murder?" Doyle asked again.

"Absolutely. I am a Rescue Ranger after all, not to mention one of Dale's closest friends."

"We generally prefer to be the first ones who speak to a witness when they regain consciousness."

"He woke up while I was at his bedside."

"That's… great. Just really, really great." Doyle looked pained. "Of course, we'll have to have speak to him ourselves, so let's just get on with your statement."

"Certainly. You see detective, I'm here to report a very serious crime that seems to have been over-looked in all the recent excitement."

Doyle's hopes rose momentarily. "And that would be?"

"False imprisonment, conspiracy to pervert the course of justice and criminal assault on a Rescue Ranger."

Doyle scratched his head. "That's public spirited of you, Miss Hackwrench, but I don't think you understand how the system works."

"That's why I brought my lawyer."

Doyle tried not to snarl at her lawyer. "You might want to tell your lawyer that Chip was found hauling an unconscious body around in a rubbish sack which gives us a perfect right to arrest him, even if he it turns out he didn't know what was in the bag. Further more we're very much aware of the assault that took place on Dale which is the reason we are all here."

"I wasn't referring to Chip. Or Dale. I mean to say that I was falsely imprisoned and assaulted." Gadget told him demurely.

Doyle gaped at her, taken off guard. Then a twisted understanding came over him and he began to wonder just what had been going on in that tree house between rescue missions. "Ah, okay. Would you feel more comfortable talking to a female officer?"

"Excuse me?" Gadget asked. Her lawyer leaned over and whispered in her ear. Gadget's eyes went wide and her ears drooped as she listened to his explanation. "Uh, no. No, thank you. That won't be necessary. Thankfully, I don't mean assaulted in that way."

Doyle hummed to himself as he considered the implications. No matter what scenario he played out in his mind's eye, he couldn't see where this was going. The only option seemed to be to allow Gadget to lead him there by the hand. "Very well, in your own time then, Miss Hackwrench."

"Several weeks ago the Ranger Skate was stolen while I was visiting a friend. A passer-by approached me and claimed to be a witness. I asked if he would mind giving me a few details and he suggested we sit down in a nearby café-bar so we could go over things in details. Naturally, the owner was running a business and it was only polite that we order drinks. I asked for a coffee. Unbeknownst to me, my so-called witness introduced a foreign substance to my drink and I was drugged. My memory is a little hazy until the following morning when I woke up in a cell at another Street Watch precinct."

Doyle frowned. His first thought had been to ask again if Gadget wanted a female interviewer, his second that she had been lucky not to wind up chained to the wall of some guy's basement. It was only when she mentioned the Street Watch that Doyle wondered why he hadn't heard about the resulting scandal… and a nagging doubt suggested he had.

"No." he said.

"Quite true, I assure you."

"Did you tell anyone you were drugged when they interviewed you?" Doyle demanded quickly. Inside he repeated a silent prayer: Please let this be her fault. Please let this be her fault.

"My client was never interviewed or charged in relation to the reason for her original arrest. Nor was she offered the medical attention she so clearly needed." The lawyer headed Doyle off at the pass.

"I see." Doyle said bitterly. And that was trouble right there. Even if the person on the other side of the table was convicted career criminal and the lawyer an ambulance chaser in search of a quick fee, they could still seek compensation from a judge and probably get it.

"I immediately identified myself only to be informed that Gadget Hackwrench was in hospital following an attempted hijacking. No effort was made to check into my claims or disprove them. They were simply ignored. Then I attempted call home, only to be disconnected by a fault on the line and denied any further communication except via my lawyer. The lawyer appointed to me had been a trial attorney for precisely one day and he failed to fully appraise me of the dangers of rushing to trial and of my rights."

Doyle's sinking feeling got worse. His best hope, and it was a slim one, was that Gadget was lying through her teeth because being in prison gave her an alibi for the assault on Dale that would explain even eye witness testimony to the contrary.

Gadget continued. "At trial I was denied the right to call my friends and co-workers as witnesses, whose testimony would have cleared me. I forbidden from repeating my claims to my own identity and gagged to silence me. I was then convicted in less than a day and given a sentence of fifteen years, including three years for failing to give a name other than Gadget Hackwrench."

Doyle swallowed hard. He was trying to see a way out of this that didn't involve the end of his career and possibly the Street Watch as a whole. When he could speak, he asked gently: "Do you have any evidence to back up these remarkable claims?"

"Mister Kafka, my attorney, was awoken from hibernation this morning due to a fault in the heating system of the building where he was being tended to. The sudden rise in temperature fooled his body into thinking it was spring." Gadget explained. "He was kind enough to come to see Mister Trent-Neal with me and has provided us with a notarised statement confirming that I am the person he defended unsuccessfully in court."

Doyle winced. "As unfortunate as a miss-carriage of justice is, I haven't heard anything that suggests there was a conspiracy to interfere with the outcome."

Gadget's lawyer removed an envelope from his briefcase and began speaking. "Mister Kafka also acknowledges his short comings as a trial lawyer. He has stated an intention to re-locate after this has been cleared up and redirect his energies in the field of contract law. More importantly, he describes in detail an interview with the prosecution counsel and the judge presiding at Miss Hackwrench's trial. You, ah, might want to take a few moments to read that."

Kafka's statement ran to four pages. The little dormouse had made little attempt to disguise or excuse his part in what had to be the worst miss-carriage of justice in a century. Neither had he extended such courtesy to anyone else involved. His description of the conversation that had taken place in the judges chambers suggested that Doyle would shortly be handcuffing a prosecutor and a judge, something that their colleagues were unlikely to forgive or forget in a hurry.

Doyle began to think about relocating as well.

"After sentencing I was taken to Shrankshaw Prison where I was almost immediately punched in the jaw by a guard for failing to observe prison etiquette, which I was ignorant of at that time. I was strip searched and placed in a cell with a number of hardened criminals who tied my hair to the top of the cell door. They left me hanging there all night."

Doyle silently considered that Gadget had been pretty lucky. Except for a punch in the kisser and missing a night's sleep, she hadn't suffered anything that would call for therapy, at least, not so far in her story. Doyle hoped she wasn't saving the worst for last – the newspapers would go into hysterics if any of this reached them and Doyle would prefer it if they had to make up the more salacious details.

"On the instructions of the warden, I was confined to the prison's special hospital ward for the criminally insane. She at least realised that I thought I was telling the truth. Eventually Chip, being at least thorough enough to want to interview the person convicted of impersonating the Rangers, came to visit me. I was so heavily medicated and restrained I couldn't make him understand who I was."

Doyle wandered whether did a point against the Rangers count as a point in everyone else's favour.

"Shortly afterwards someone tampered with the doctor's paperwork and arranged for me to receive electroshock therapy." Gadget said after a slight pause.

Doyle stared at her. He hoped and prayed that it would be whoever owned and ran Shrankshaw that got it in the neck for that one. Don't apologize, he counselled himself, don't say anything that could give a lawyer a toehold. Above all don't say – "I'm sorry. That never should have happened to some one like you."

He couldn't stand not saying it. He was past not believing now.

"Afterwards I was reintroduced to the general population, but prevented from writing any letters that could have ended my ordeal. One of the guards had suspended my privileges. I spent several weeks locked in my cell until they found me a job in the laundry. On my first day there I was the target of an angry mob that tried to drown me, then crush me under a steam iron."

Doyle reeled as though punched on the jaw. He couldn't believe it but this some how just kept getting worse. He opened his mouth to apologise again but this time words failed him. Sorry didn't cover it.

"I fought back in self-defence. Unfortunately the water tank that supplied the laundry was broken in the fight and the prison was partially flooded." Gadget blushed slightly.

She's admitting doing wrong, Doyle thought. It'll come back to haunt her, but it won't be me knocking on her door when it does.

"The warden, understandably, confined me to a solitary cell. While I was there one of the other guards approached my cellmate with a knife and struck a bargain with her to kill me. My cellmate had no intention of holding up her end of the bargain and when the guard opened the door we overcame her and escaped."

Uh-oh, thought Doyle.

"In the course of the escape a crane was destroyed. We gained access to the roof with three other prisoners and I improvised a hang-glider from the flag that flew above the human prison Shrankshaw is built under. I separated from them and made my own way back to the city with one minor interruption on the way."

Doyle played with his pen listlessly, as though checking to see if his fingers still worked. After a few moments, he forced himself to play the part of a detached professional. "I'll have to address the other points of your statement in a moment or two. First I have to ask, was that you I met at the Ranger's tree house this morning?"

"Yes, it was."

"Why didn't you mention any of this then?"

"I had only just found out what had happened the night before. I wanted to know more and make sure Dale was okay before handing myself over to you."

"Handing yourself…?" Doyle closed his eyes and rubbed a paw over his forehead. She knew. Of course she knew. That was why she had brought a lawyer. Doyle looked at the smartly dressed rat and wondered what he thought of all this. One way or another he needed to know. "Mister Trent-Neal, were you aware of all this before now?"

Trent-Neal looked at Gadget. She looked blankly back at him until he whispered in her ear, then she gave a brief nod. "I can't discuss the specifics of what my client and I discussed when we met earlier today, but yes. I knew most of this, including the part about the escape."

"Have you advised her-?"

"I've advised her that she will be held responsible for her actions during the time she was in custody, regardless of how she came to be there."

Doyle sighed. "Miss Hackwrench, you understand that escaping lawful custody is a crime, not to mention the issues of criminal damage and assault stemming from the riot and the escape itself."

"Yes. I do."

"You understand that I have to advise you of your rights now and place you under arrest? That I have no other option open to me, regardless of how people outside this room eventually decide to resolve this issue?" Doyle said while staring resolutely at the ceiling, anywhere but Gadget's eyes.

"I do." Gadget said softly.

"Before I do-" anything to postpone the dreadful moment, Doyle thought "-I'd like you to read this statement that was made earlier."

Doyle withdrew Chip's confession from his pocket. He placed it on the table in front of him and pushed across until it was in front of Gadget.

Gadget picked up the statement and unfolded the document. She read it with a frown at first. Then her eyes widened and she began shaking her head. By the time she had finished she was shaking.

"This isn't what happened!" She said with tears in her eyes.

Oh great, Doyle thought. Now I made her cry into the bargain. But I have to go through this, there's no other way. In a practiced, easy tone he asked the question he had to: "How do you know what happened, Miss Hackwrench? According to your story, you weren't in the tree house that night."

"I know what happened! I've spoken to people who were there! I've spoken to DALE for crying out loud!"

Dale. Yes, that was going to be interesting. Doyle was looking forward to having that conversation himself. "Chip's confession is quite comprehensive. I don't think there's any doubt that we could get a conviction with it. As your lawyer will tell you, we don't need Dale's consent to proceed when the charge is attempted murder."

Gadget looked to her knight in shining legal briefs. Trent-Neal ran a cautious eye over the confession with a neutral expression that was too neutral to be anything other than practiced. When he was done he looked up at Doyle.

"It looks thorough." Trent-Neal said casually. "I take it that he made it without the benefit of counsel?"

"Chip knows his rights. He waved counsel because he knows only guilty people need lawyers…"

"With respect, Detective, my recent experiences suggest otherwise." Gadget stopped Doyle in his tracks.

Doyle shrank back in his seat. "Right. Right, what I meant was…"

"It doesn't matter." Trent-Neal said. "The first thing any competent defender is going to do is try to get it ruled inadmissible due to lack of representation. Had Chip been allowed to sleep when he made this confession?"

Doyle threw up his hands in disgust. "He'd waved counsel and he'd had more sleep than I had!"

Trent-Neal raised an eyebrow. "As you say, Detective. Though I doubt there will be a queue of people wanting to prosecute this with Dale saying different and with Miss Hackwrench providing an alternative suspect."

Doyle crossed his arms. "We'll see what Dale says when we get him on the stand. As for Miss Hackwrench… well, I still have a few more questions for her."

The lawyer smiled. "Please, do continue. I can't wait to hear them."

Doyle leaned forward. "Miss Hackwrench, Gadget, you do realise that with this confession there is no question of anyone else being prosecuted in this? That you don't even have to give us an alibi for the night in question?"

Gadget frowned. She found herself forced to say something she wasn't accustomed to saying. "I don't understand."

Doyle spread his hands wide in a desperate appeal. "All I'm saying is nothing in the statement you've given relates to any case that I or, to the best of my knowledge, any other Detective on the Street Watch is currently working on, save in that you say you weren't home at the time of the assault, which we already knew from both Chip and Monty. "

Gadget blinked and seemed to digest this. "But the escape…"

"An unrelated matter, one that I am not investigating!" Doyle cut her off before she could shoot him down. "I can't even forward your statement to anyone because, as I said, no one is investigating it. Do you understand?"

Gadget thought about it and nodded.

"Chip's confession clears you of all suspicion in the matter of assaulting Mister Oakmont. You don't need to say a word to clear yourself. Do you understand that?" Doyle made it simple for her.

"I understand." Gadget confirmed.

"So, that said, you're welcome to walk out that door now without signing anything and making anything you just said official."

Gadget looked at her lawyer. "Why would I do that?"

Trent-Neal gave her a cynical smile and explained gently. "I think the detective is working on the assumption that you clunked Dale over the head and the rather far fetched story you've just told him is to establish you were elsewhere at the time and that anyone Dale or anyone else saw misbehaving that night was an evil impostor."

Gadget blinked. "I didn't think it would be this difficult to convince people."

"It can't be helped. Besides, assuming things go according to plan they won't have any choice but to believe you soon."

Doyle felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Plan? They had a plan? Whatever it was he was certain it wasn't going to improve things from his point of view. Sighing deeply, he counted his options.

He could kick them both down the stairs and say he didn't believe a word of it. Even if everything she had said were true, and he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that said it was, there was no reason it should get to court or into the newspapers if they released Chip without charge.

He could arrest Gadget Hackwrench and, if her story was true, return her to Shrankshaw prison with the worst criminals the city had to offer until she could appeal the original conviction, with all the attendant scandal and circus.

He could leave the room, turn in his badge and take up foraging in a farmyard for a living.

"Miss Hackwrench, I have to ask, are you standing by the statement you just made to me and will you repeat it in a court of law?" Doyle asked, unable to break the habits of a policeman.

"Yes. I do and I will."

Doyle groaned. "In that case, I have no alternative but to place you under arrest, pending your return to prison and whatever appeal or re-trail your lawyer sees fit to pursue.

"You have the right to remain silent.

"You have the right to legal representation.

"If you cannot afford legal representation, counsel will be provided for you.

"Do you understand these rights as I have quoted them to you?" Doyle looked Gadget in the eye for the first time since he had accepted her story. She looked pale and frightened, but her voice held steady when she answered.

"Yes, I do."


	32. Gadget Betrayed

_**Disclaimer**_

In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone… except a certain kind of lawyer.

**Chapter Thirty-Two**

**Gadget Betrayed**

229

"Well, what do you want to do now?" Doyle asked his boss.

Talpidae popped another painkiller. Doyle doubted it would be enough. They were in Talpidae's office again to talk over the current crisis, which so very worse than the crisis they had been facing an hour ago.

"You realise the worst thing about her story?" Talpidae grouched.

"WORST THING?" Doyle yelled. "I just arrested Gadget Hackwrench for breaking out of prison!" Doyle slapped his forehead with his open palm and waved as though gesturing towards an open vista that contained nothing but nightmare scenarios. "Is there a part of this mess you can point to as worse than any other?"

"Yes and if you think about it, you'll spot it too." Talpidae told him flatly.

Doyle sank down into the chair in front of Talpidae's desk. It didn't take long for him to get it.

"Nothing in her statement clears Chip." He said tiredly.

"That's right. It says she wasn't in the residence, makes it sound like the impostor who was could be a suspect, but nothing in her statement clears Chip or invalidates anything he said in that confession he gave you."

Doyle began running his fingers through his hair. He needed a shower badly and he couldn't remember the last time he had eaten. "I should have just kicked her down the stairs and told her I didn't believe a word of it."

"Wouldn't have worked in the long run. She would have just gone to the newspapers." Talpidae said. "Now listen, detective. I've got to take this to the boys upstairs and I mean all of it. It's over my pay grade and it's definitely over yours."

"What will they do?"

"How should I know? If I knew what to do myself, I wouldn't need to take it to them." Talpidae ran a hand over his eyes. "Look, Doyle. Go home. I mean for real this time. Get some sleep. I'm not formally taking you off the case, not yet, but I think I'd be doing you a favour if I did."

Doyle nodded, understanding exactly what his superior meant. "Are you giving it to one of the others?"

Talpidae thought about it for a moment then shook his head. "No. That wouldn't be right either. I'll take it. That way no one's going to think that you messed up and I won't be playing games with someone else's career. I should be big enough to handle any heat we get for how this goes down."

Doyle looked at his boss with a touch of pity and a lot of respect. Out loud all he said was: "Sooner you than me, Lieutenant."

"Go home, Doyle. While I still like you."

230

While Doyle was dropping the whole ugly mess in Lieutenant Talpidae's lap, the young detective who had taken notes during their interview took Gadget to be processed like any other felon.

Fingerprints were useless to the Sweepers, since only humans and koala bears had them. Instead they took paw-prints from both the hands and, since most small animals didn't trouble themselves to wear shoes, Gadget's feet. They had done this once before, of course, and soon they would dig out the records and know for certain everything she had told them was true.

After they let her wash her hands and feet they took her to the custody sergeant, who looked at her in surprise and bewilderment until the young detective whispered a few words to explain the situation. Gadget took the opportunity to study her surroundings.

A drywall gap is the space between the inside of a building's outer walls and the outside of it's inner walls and exists to prevent moisture soaking through the outside of the building into the nice warm, dry interior. This particular Sweeper precinct was built into a drywall gap of a large, old human building. At the point where the drywall met the ground two rows of cinderblocks, each with two rectangular holes running through them, had been arranged so that the holes could serve as a cells. That left about five inches between the cells on the left and the cells on the right for a strip of linoleum for the guards to walk down.

Thick bars cut from coat hanger wire closed off the front each cell and a metal plate sealed the back to prevent tunnelling through the walls. A human could have bent or torn out those bars with one hand, perhaps only two fingers but to Gadget they were half as thick as her wrist and as solid as iron or steel.

The only light came from a string of fairy lights hung over the hallway that ran between the cells. It was pale and insubstantial, made everything it touched seem greyer than it already was and left most of the cells in shadow. Just looking at it Gadget found she was missing sunlight already.

The custody sergeant approached her. She was a brown mouse of about the same age as Gadget, and her ears and tail were held low unhappily.

"I need you to turn out your pockets and put all your property on the desk, Miss Hackwrench." She said in a restrained voice.

Gadget lowered her eyes and began turning the pockets of her jump suit inside out to show they were empty. She had been expecting this and hadn't wanted the added burden of worrying about whether she would get her things back.

To her surprise she found they weren't empty. It was astonishing how many things a person could accumulate in a single morning and afternoon. There were three nuts and bolts from the Ranger-car that she hadn't been able to find holes for in the dark. There was the front door key for her old home where she had stored the belongings that Doyle had allowed her to remove from the tree house. There was her lawyer's business card.

"Is that everything?" The sergeant asked in a clipped professional tone.

Gadget patted down her jumpsuit to be sure. "Yes, that's all."

The sergeant handed her a list itemising the contents of her pockets. "Sign here."

Gadget took the pen and hoped she wasn't signing her life away.

"Pen, please." The sergeant held out her hand.

Did she think she was going to steal the pen? Gadget felt affronted for a moment, then realised she had been halfway to absent-mindedly putting it in her own pocket. It had been an automatic gesture, yet under these circumstances it sent a hot flush of guilt through her.

She returned the pen then stood with her feet together and her hands behind her back, waiting for the sergeant to open the steel wire door of the pet cage grill that stood between the desk and the cells as an added layer of security.

Instead the sergeant walked away from her.

Gadget didn't realise at first. She carried on looking at the doorway to the cells.

"This way, Miss Hackwrench." The sergeant told her.

Gadget blinked in confusion. "You aren't going to put me in the cells?"

The sergeant's face assumed a pained expression.

"Yes. We're going to put you in a cell after I search you. Through here." The sergeant pointed to a very ordinary looking door that Gadget had ignored in her study of her surroundings.

"Uh…" Gadget said. Then forced herself to put one foot in front of the other until she was standing in the little room on the other side of the door.

The sergeant shut the door gently, yet Gadget flinched at the sound of it closing. She was ashamed of herself but couldn't slow her breathing or her rushing heartbeat.

"Would you prefer me to call you Miss Hackwrench, or Gadget?" The sergeant asked, kindly.

"Gadget."

"If what the detective told me is true, you've been through this before." The mouse gave her what was supposed to be an encouraging smile.

"It wasn't a pleasant experience." Gadget returned with a frozen expression.

The brown mouse looked down, hiding any reaction.

"Can I ask how far this search is going to go?" Gadget practically pleaded.

The sergeant winced. "Just as far as I think it has to." Then, suddenly, she was all business. "Put your hands against the wall and place your feet wide apart, Gadget."

Gadget hesitated then slowly moved to obey. She assumed the position, the same position she had been in when Haggs had searched their cell the night before her escape. She remembered the big rat's paws on her, tearing at her clothing. She closed her eyes and tried to disconnect herself from what was happening.

The mouse's paws were surprisingly gentle. They started at Gadget's shoulders by her neck and worked their way up to her wrists, then down again on the outside of her arms, pressing the fabric of Gadget's jumpsuit firmly against her skin.

Professional, Gadget thought, this is the way it's supposed to be done. Still, when the paws reached her chest she wanted to snarl and had to set her face into a hard, tight mask to hold it in.

The sergeant moved down to Gadget's waist, checking all the way around her belt.

"I'm going to have to confiscate the belt." She told Gadget as though breaking bad news. "Keep your paws on the wall for now and we'll get to it later."

Gadget swallowed and wondered what else they would get to later.

The hands moved on. Gadget tried not to flinch when they touched the inside of her thighs.

"Okay. You can stand away from the wall now."

Gadget sighed.

"Take off the belt and give it to me."

Gadget's hands fumbled with the belt for an instant, then passed it to the mouse, meeting her eye unexpectedly. She had sympathetic brown eyes that matched her fur and for a moment Gadget thought that perhaps they were done.

Then the sergeant took the belt and turned away so Gadget couldn't see her face when she said: "Take off your clothes leave them folded neatly on the stool over there."

Gadget felt tears sting her eyes and berated herself as she struggled out of her jumpsuit. Come on, she thought, you've been through this! You should be used to it by now!

Soon she was standing in her underwear in front of a total stranger and, knowing that wasn't enough, she found herself forced to turn her back for the little privacy that gave her. When she had added the last item to the pile she stood there, shivering.

"Uh, Gadget?"

"Yes?" Gadget quavered.

"I need the goggles too."

Gadget's hand went to her head in surprise. She took off the flight goggles she had worn while flying the Ranger-wing and placed them on top of the pile.

She felt rather than heard the mouse move up behind her and braced herself for what came next. She didn't relax until she heard the faint rustle of clothing and realised that her clothes were being searched thoroughly. She briefly thanked heaven that she had found the time to change her underwear.

"Okay, Gadget. I need you to put your paws against the wall again, like you did just now. Can you do that for me?" Despite the gentle tone and polite phrasing there was no doubt that it was an order.

Gadget forced her arms and legs to obey and hoped she could hold it together a little longer. She was startled when the brown mouse began to run a comb through her hair.

"Almost done." The sergeant reported after half a minute. "Okay, I just need to look you over and then you can put your clothes back on."

Gadget almost collapsed with relief.

"I know, I'm glad it's nearly over too." The mouse said unexpectedly.

"Not as glad as I am!" Gadget promised her.

The sergeant didn't take it amiss. She lifted Gadget's hair to check there was nothing taped to the back of her neck and then dropped it.

"Turn around now." She ordered.

Gadget pulled a face and did as she was told. The brown mouse looked her up and down with a thoughtful expression.

"Okay, Gadget. I just need you to lift up your arms and slowly turn around and then we're done."

Thank heavens for that, Gadget thought as she complied.

"Get dressed and I'll escort you to your cell. I don't imagine you'll be here very long, so try not to go stir crazy on me, okay?"

"Thank you." Gadget said sincerely without for a moment thinking how strange it was to thank someone for putting her through this.

The sergeant didn't reply and began rolling up Gadget's belt. She put it in a bag with the flight goggles while Gadget dressed.

"All done?"

Gadget nodded. Her pants felt loose and her hair was hanging differently without the goggles but apart from that she felt fine.

"Okay, let's go. You'll have a cell to yourself, since you're a potential target for aggression from other inmates. I dare say someone will be down to sort this out in a couple of hours or so, but it's gone seven now and the people they need to speak to might have gone home for the night. If they can't get hold of them they may keep you until the morning, in which case dinner is at eight thirty and lights out is an hour later."

The sergeant opened the door and led Gadget through to the cells. The doors closed behind her with a sound of finality that blew away the sergeant's optimism like dried autumn leaves in a gale.

231

Back in his office, far above the cold grey cell Gadget was sitting in, Lieutenant Talpidae was writing lists and making calls. His first list was a list of things to do before he went home and at the bottom of it was clearing out his desk for his successor. The second list was of people to contact with the bad news and at the top of it was his wife. He sent an errand-boy they mostly used to send out for sandwiches with a note explaining that he was going to have to put in a night at the office, again, and moved on to the second name.

His boss.

Talpidae's boss was a squirrel named Oscar Sherwood who was closer to Doyle's age than Talpidae's own. Unlike Talpidae, who saw being a Sweeper as a job and promotion as a reward for doing the job well, Sherwood was an ambitious career type who saw promotion as the reason for doing anything. He regularly went home at seven or later, so Talpidae wasn't surprised when the intercom call to Sherwood's office was answered immediately.

"What's the good news, Lieutenant?" The squirrel's voice boomed with practiced confidence.

Talpidae sighed deeply. His boss always started with the hard questions. "Well," he began slowly, "Dale Oakmont woke up this afternoon."

There was a slight pause. "Does that mean we can count on his testimony at the trial?"

"I think he'll testify, yes. But I don't think it will help our case any."

Sherwood hummed and cleared his throat on the other end of the line. "After a serious head injury it's only to be expected that his memory might be unreliable, but under the circumstances I'm sure any one of our competent detectives, properly supervised, can put together a case that doesn't need require the victim to take the stand."

"It's putting together a case that would survive his testimony that's troubling me." Talpidae said grimly and listened to the slight pause on the other end of the line.

"Why? What's he told us?"

"Nothing officially yet, but I thought you might want to hear informally what he's likely to say before we send anyone to the hospital to take a statement."

Hearing something informally meant he hadn't heard it at all as far as anyone else was concerned. There was another slight pause then Sherwood answered in a guarded tone of voice. "Understood. Go ahead, Talpidae."

"According to Gadget Hackwrench, who came in to make a statement as she promised Detective Doyle she would do, Dale Oakmont woke up this afternoon while she was at his bedside. Apparently the hospital was pretty busy and nobody there minded a potential suspect just walking for a visit. Dale is going to say that he was hit by someone impersonating Gadget."

Long pause. "Where is Miss Hackwrench now?"

Talpidae dry swallowed and winced. Always with the hard questions! Would it kill him to make small talk? "Right now, Miss Hackwrench is in a holding cell."

"For trying to put Oakmont out of the way?"

"No. For escaping lawful custody, inciting a riot, criminal damage to prison property, common assault and assault on a guard."

"What? One of our jailers?"

"No. One at Shrankshaw where she claims she was wrongfully sent over three months ago – by us!"

"WHAT! Talpidae, are you kidding me?"

"No."

There was a very long pause.

"You still there, Captain?"

"Yes. Yes, I'm still here. Just give me a minute." There was some rustling of paper. "Is there any chance she, uh, you know… being disingenuous?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know, disingenuous! It means, well, it means less than completely honest."

"I'm more worried that she's being entirely too honest." Talpidae scowled.

"Well, if she'd clunked Dale over the head, a few days in jail playing the innocent victim of a miscarriage of justice might sound a little tempting."

"We thought of that." Why did the people upstairs always assume that no one else had a brain, Talpidae wondered?

"And?"

"I've got someone down in filing looking for the paw prints we took from the Jane Doe we convicted to see if they match up."

Slight pause. "Do you think they will?"

"Yes. They don't always; it's not like fingerprints with humans. Someone does a little hard work, grows a few calluses, it changes their print. We almost never get a decent print from a crime scene because people don't use their whole paws to touch something as much as you might think and when they do, their skin isn't oily and sweaty like a human's, so the marks aren't as easy to pick up. But we always get a good impression when we take someone's prints in the precinct and ones we took when she was convicted are only three months old."

"If they don't, would she be unable to prove her story is true?"

Talpidae could practically hear Sherwood looking up the address of an easily influenced print expert. "I doubt it. She gave an account of a conversation with the prison warden and she has a statement from the defence lawyer who worked the impostor's trial. Ah, you might want to hear more about that statement…"

"Let me have it." Sherwood said. It sounded like he was taking notes at the other end. Talpidae wouldn't have been in the least bit surprised if he was. In fact, it wouldn't have been a bad idea to take some of his own – too late now, the mole scowled.

"Shall I read it to you or just give you the summary?"

"Summary."

Talpidae pulled a copy of Kafka's sworn statement out of the folder in front of him and cast a weary eye over it. "The lawyer says he's a useless bum who got Gadget Hackwrench convicted for impersonating herself and probably couldn't argue his way out of phone booth, but that he needed help to mess things up this badly." He summarised. "There's a blow-by-blow account of how the judge and prosecutor took him aside before the trail even started. Told him he was hand-picked to get the desired result and that he better not make any waves if he knew what was good for him."

Long pause. Talpidae could picture Sherwood rubbing a paw against his forehead. "Great. So, he implicates them?"

"Yeah."

"How far? Did he wreck these guys careers or are they looking at time themselves?"

Talpidae glanced at the statement again then put it face down on his desk, in disgust. "If the quote from the judge stands up in court then it could be time. Plus it will raise questions about how far this goes and who else knew."

"Don't say that!" Sherwood sounded alarmed. "Don't talk about trouble we don't have yet. You might bring it on. If the wrong kind of person hears that kind of talk, why, it could start a witch-hunt! The last thing we need is the defenders and the prosecutors and the judges all mad at us at the same time."

Talpidae nodded to himself. It was the kind of reaction he had expected. "I know what you mean, boss. Look, I don't want to heap more bad news on you but there's something else you've got to know. Doyle was able to get a confession out of Chip Maplewood. Now, there's a chance that Maplewood just confessed to protect Gadget, or whoever he thought was Gadget, but nothing in Miss Hackwrench's statement clears Chip."

Slight pause. "Can we do a deal? Tell them we'll ignore the case against him if they keep quiet about all of this?"

Talpidae shook his head even though his superior couldn't see it. "Not since Dale Oakmont woke up. We'll have nothing to trade with if he sides with them. Plus, if he says the impostor did this then Chip can spin things in the papers so that it looks we convicted a regular heroine and allowed a dangerous criminal to nearly kill a Rescue Ranger in his own home."

"If he remembers what happened, you mean!"

"He doesn't need to remember. Gadget was with him when he woke up. You can bet their stories are going to tie up perfectly. The moment Dale woke up and Gadget gave us her story about being mistaken for the impostor, all we really had on Chip was making a false confession. We've got a lot more on Hackwrench but let's face it – we can't use it without exposing our own mistakes." Talpidae checked his two lists. He hoped Sherwood would get the picture pretty soon, because there were too many other people he had to speak to for this conversation to go on all night.

There was really only one thing Sherwood could do at this point and the old mole had been in the Street Watch too long to have any doubts about what it was. Soon Sherwood would be calling his boss, Chief Gainsborough, who would call Commissionaire Talloweye. Assuming Commissionaire Talloweye didn't pop out his claws and eat Gainsborough right there on the spot, becoming Talpidae's next customer, the ginger tom would then tell the City Conclave the whole thing before they read about it over in the newspapers.

A lot of very important people would be missing their sleep tonight.

"I'm going to have to call the Chief about this." Sherwood announced.

"Really?" Talpidae raised his eyebrows as he tried to fake surprise. "Well, if you feel that's best."

"Yes, I really do." There was no telling whether Sherwood was being sarcastic or not.

Talpidae took his gamble. Everything up to now had been building to this gambit and either Sherwood would shut him down entirely or give him free reign to do what needed to be done. "I thought it would be a good idea to call a few people myself. I know a Lieutenant at the precinct that mistook Gadget Hackwrench for a hardened criminal, for instance. They might appreciate a heads up, at least that way they'll know what the Chief is talking about when he calls and it may save us some hard feelings down the line."

There was another pause at the other end of the line. Talpidae didn't like that. It meant his boss was thinking about it. "Captain, are you there? I said – "

"I head what you said, drat it!" Sherwood's patience snapped like a pencil. "Call your friend if you want to! Heck, call your mother and tell her the whole story if you think it will help! Just don't leave your desk until I call you back!" The squirrel, having made his first and only fatal mistake, slammed a paw down on the intercom switch ending the conversation.

Talpidae picked up a pencil and drew a line through item one on each of his lists. Then he sat back in his office chair and grinned a grin that was all sharp white teeth.

232

Gertrude Phelps had given up on the card table in the janitor's closet and was trying to do her paperwork at the guard's reception desk, next to the clock and the time cards the guards used to punch in every shift. She had a headache and a problem.

As near as she could tell, she'd blown the overtime budget for the rest of the year – which ended in April for reasons best known to accountants.

Now her staff of thirty was down six people, two claiming injuries (three if you counted Margo Haggs who certainly wasn't faking) and the rest having quit after the worst riot in Shrankshaw's history.

On top of that the prison inspectors were coming tomorrow to see if the prison should remain open or be closed down entirely and its inmates shipped out to wherever would take them.

She hadn't slept in nearly forty-eight hours.

Then the phone rang.

233

Talpidae was right about a lot of important people not sleeping that night, though he had no way of knowing how many. He did call his friend at the precinct Gadget had first been taken to, who had just started a night shift. His pal listened to the whole story without commenting, save for a dirty chuckle. Someone who had handled Gadget's case had made themselves unpopular.

The lieutenant worked his way down the list, calling friends and strangers alike, until finally he drew a line through the last name on his list. He allowed himself a smile before he returned to his second list. He re-read it and drew a line through three items that were no longer possible, either because he had been unable to reach the right people or because he had learned something new during his calls.

When he had finished he stood up and went to the door – as far from his desk as he dared with his boss due to call him at any moment. Opening the door he called out, "Louie! You got what I asked for yet?"

"Sure, Lieutenant!" A small weasel answered with a wave.

"Bring them here! I got work to do!"

Louie brought his Lieutenant a pair of brown manila folders and handed them over without a qualm.

"There ya go, boss." He smiled ingratiatingly.

"Did you sign these out?" The Lieutenant asked as he glanced at the titles on the folders.

"Sure." Louie's smile grew wider.

"While I'm thinking about it, did you find those other case files you signed out? You know the ones." Talpidae kept his tone light and tried not to feel like a rat instead of a mole.

Louie's smile faltered and failed like the lights in a power cut. "Oh! Oh, those? I could have sworn I put them back already. Did I forget to book them back in? Maybe I just put them back when the clerk was on a break to save the trouble of telling him."

"He can't seem to find them. Perhaps you put them back in the wrong place?"

"Oh gee, did I? I'm sorry, Lieutenant. I'll go look for them." Louie was back-pedalling, trying to escape.

"No hurry." Talpidae smiled benignly (but there was an evil look in his eye). "Just so long as you didn't lose any more files. Okay, Louie?"

"Don't worry boss, I got it covered!" Louie's promises wouldn't have convinced his own mother as he scuttled away with a guilty look on his face.

Talpidae closed the door and checked the manila folders to make sure they were the right ones. Yep. Chip's arrest record from last night and Gadget's arrest record from tonight. His friend at the other precinct had promised to have an errand boy bring the records of Gadget's original arrest over to him before morning.

Talpidae took the contents out of the folders out and put them in two new folders that were unlabeled. Then he took a set of blank forms, scribbled illegibly in all the fields as if a drunk with broken fingers had filled them in and then spilled as much ink on the finished result as seemed reasonably possible. He left them to dry on the radiator while he amended the labels on the folders to read "G. MacKuirerick" instead of "G. Hackwrench" and "C. Naptenbod" instead of "C. Maplewood".

"Amazing what a slip of a pen here and there will do." Talpidae said to himself.

Then, because only a complete idiot would paint himself into a corner he couldn't back out of, Talpidae took the real paperwork for Chip and Gadget's arrest and put it in a large scrapbook of newspaper clippings that he kept in his desk drawer instead of destroying it. Now all the paperwork to show that Chip and Gadget had ever been arrested at this precinct was, for all intents and purposes, lost. If necessary, Talpidae could deny that they had ever been arrested. Not that he would, because that too would be painting himself into a corner. The phrase was "assisting with enquiries", which was vague enough to mean anything.

The phone rang.

Talpidae sat down in his chair, took a deep breath and picked up on the third ring.

"Talpidae? Is that you?" Sherwood's voice was high-pitched and slightly shaky on the other end of the phone.

"Yes, this is Lieutenant Talpidae speaking. Is that you Captain Sherwood?"

"Yes, of course it's me! Listen, that call you were going to make –"

"All taken care of." Talpidae cut him off. He kept his tone of voice steady and reassuring precisely because he knew that nothing he was going to say to his superior in the course of this conversation would be reassuring.

"You made it?" Sherwood yelled into his phone. "You already called him?"

"Sure, I called him right after you. Just like I said I was going to." The old mole said quietly.

"And you got through to him? He hadn't gone home?"

"He works nightshift." Talpidae explained.

Long pause. "Did you call anyone else?"

"Everyone I thought might be able to help, Captain, but I'm afraid I didn't get very far. I couldn't get through to some people and others just weren't in a position to help."

Talpidae heard a slight noise on the other end of the line that might have been a muffled profanity.

"How many people did you call?" Sherwood whined.

"I don't know. Four or five." Talpidae said carefully. "The warden at the prison is coming over to identify Gadget Hackwrench as the prisoner who broke out. If the warden can't or won't identify her, well…" he let the sentence tail off so that Captain Sherwood could hang his hopes on it.

"We could what, exactly? Call Gadget Hackwrench a liar?"

"I thought maybe profess confusion at the contradictory evidence, say we don't have sufficient reason to hold her and kick her out the front door. She's spending a night in the cells right now so maybe she won't be so keen to tell the world about this come morning." Inwardly, Talpidae didn't imagine for a moment that things would work out this way.

Asking Warden Phelps to come over and identify Gadget had just been a pretext to get her in the building. Most of the charges against Gadget stemmed from Gadget's stay in prison and therefore the Warden could make them go away once Talpidae had explained the situation.

"I like it." Sherwood said. "But things may have moved on from there. There is another way to play this."

Talpidae blinked. Here it comes, he thought. "What would that be, sir?"

"You know how some people are wondering if maybe volunteer groups like the Rangers are a bit old fashioned? That maybe they aren't what the city really needs these days? Now that it has more modern organizations like the Sweepers, for instance."

Sherwood's voice was light and casual, and every bit as false and rehearsed as Talpidae's puzzled reply. "I don't really recall, Captain. Possibly I heard something like that but didn't give it much thought at the time."

"Of course, you're very busy. We all are. But the thinking at the senior levels seems to be that volunteer groups like the rangers are an unnecessary drain on the city council's resources, wouldn't you agree?" Sherwood was talking in his most understanding, agreeable tone.

Talpidae smiled cynically to himself. Is he asking me to agree that is the thinking at the top level, or to agree that thinking the Rangers are a drain on resources is correct? The answer was both, of course. It was a short step from agreeing to the first part to the second part being taken as an established fact.

False modesty saved the day. "I'm sorry, Captain, but I'm afraid that the people at the top don't have much time to share their thoughts with an old Lieutenant who's just marking time to retirement. I'll have to take your word for it on how they feel."

"Oh, don't underrate yourself. They know you're one of their best, Talpidae. If it wasn't so, they wouldn't trust you to handle this situation with the Rangers." Sherwood applied his best motivational tools. "And when it's over, they'll remember your name. You've been a Lieutenant for how long now?"

"Eight years, sir." Talpidae felt his fur rise. He had given up on promotion but part of him still wanted it and he hated Sherwood for making him remember what that felt like.

"You must be about due." Sherwood promised without promising.

"What does all this have to do with our current situation?" Talpidae asked, his annoyance finally showing through.

"Talpidae, the reason you're one of the best people we have on the Street Watch is that you understand the important things. You can just separate them out from the minute-to-minute trivia that we all have to deal with and most people can't do that. Now, I've always thought that one of the big things, one of the important things, about the law is that it treats everyone the same." Sherwood chuckled as though the idea was somehow funny. "You, me, the ordinary working fella, even hardened criminals who spend more time inside prison than out."

Talpidae struggled to see his superior's point. "So, you're telling me you want this handled by the book?"

"Of course, always, but first answer me this: What would happen to some ordinary person who we never heard of who got caught with an unconscious body in a sack? And then, what if that person's girlfriend came in with some sob story about having gotten a raw deal from us in the past and, in the process, blabbed that she had committed two or three serious crimes?"

Talpidae hated to admit it, but he could see Captain Sherwood's point.

"We'd throw the book at them." He conceded.

"Exactly. Now, about this wrongful conviction thing, it may be that the girl has reason to feel she was treated unfairly, but that's a matter for her lawyer and a judge. If they say it was a mistake that's fine but it's not for us to tell them they got it wrong.

"After all," Sherwood added pointedly, "who's to say they did?"

Talpidae had naively assumed the top brass would want to keep this out of the courts and the public eye. He felt the world turn unexpectedly under him – in the wrong direction. "Captain Sherwood, I really don't think there's any chance the mouse in our cells is going to be identified as anyone other than Gadget Hackwrench." He said patiently.

"I know that, I know. But has anyone ever checked where Gadget Hackwrench WAS at the time of all these crimes? How do we know she didn't do them?"

Talpidae was breath-taken at overwhelming stupidity of the suggestion. "Sir, Gadget was in custody at the time of the museum robbery and was in Shrankshaw while someone else was in hospital and convalescing at the Ranger's HQ. Plus, most of the crimes were committed halfway across the country on dates at least close to ones where Miss Hackwrench was known to be in the city. I think it's pretty fairly well established that there was a double of Gadget Hackwrench running around with criminal intent."

"Work with me here, Lieutenant. The fact that Gadget has a double doesn't rule out the possibility she had a paw in the crimes. At the very least we have to believe the impostor was in the Ranger HQ for, what, two months? Two months and not one of the Rangers spotted anything suspicious. That's what we're being asked to believe. Don't you find that in the least bit suspicious?" Sherwood suggestion was insidious. Talpidae found himself considering it even as he fantasized about calling his superior a moron. Perhaps throwing Sherwood a bone would be enough.

"It certainly suggests that Maplewood isn't the detective he thinks he is." The mole suggested.

Sherwood laughed. "We aren't talking simple incompetence here, we're talking complicity. They knew and they didn't say anything."

"And left Gadget Hackwrench sitting in JAIL?" Talpidae roared.

"They couldn't say anything without incriminating themselves!"

Talpidae was standing now. He couldn't remember exactly when he had gotten out of his chair. He wanted to pace around his office but the short phone cable tethered him. He ran a big, shovel sized paw through his thinning hair and took a few deep breaths to calm down. "Look, sir, all I'm saying is that even if what you're saying is true we will have a hard time convincing a jury of something that sounds like, well, a conspiracy theory!"

"Are you saying you won't investigate the possibility?" Sherwood's tone was edged with menace.

"As a member of the Street Watch we have a duty to investigate any reasonable possibility, Captain Sherwood. Of course we'll look into it…" I just don't think we'll have to look very hard before we can rule it out, Talpidae thought.

"That's all I ask. Just that you bring the other Rangers in tomorrow for questioning and… spend a few hours exploring all the possibilities with them." Sherwood sounded like he was backing down, or getting ready to make a deal with someone.

What sort of deal, Talpidae wondered? Then it came to him. "How many hours do you think that would take, Captain?"

"Oh, I dare say you could get done by, say, four in the afternoon."

Four in the afternoon was when the afternoon editions of most newspapers hit the streets. Talpidae sank back into his chair, wearily.

"Are you still there, lieutenant?" Sherwood's concern was touching.

_No, I'm not here! I'm curled up under my desk having a heart attack! When they find me everyone will know you caused it!_ That was what Talpidae wanted to scream into the phone, but inconveniencing Gadget's friends for a few hours, even if it was so Sherwood's slime-ball friends could kick-start a smear campaign in the press, was a small price to pay for the time he needed to resolve this mess.

What he said out loud was: "Yes. I'm sure we could do that, Captain."

"Good. And Talpidae…?" Talpidae could imagine Sherwood was grinning like he'd just won the star prize in the lottery.

"Yes sir?"

"If the Rangers weren't accomplices to this… that means that the impostor must have had some very specialized inside knowledge. Would you agree?"

Talpidae couldn't see away out of it. It was a conclusion he had already reached. "Yes, I would."

Sherwood's voice dripped victory. "I can't think of a better person to have provided that inside knowledge than Gadget Hackwrench."

234

Gadget was sitting on the bed in her cell, missing Bubbles. She had known there was a good chance of being arrested and jailed again if she walked through the precinct's front door but she had spent a good sized chunk of her life working for a system that she now believed to be broken. Like any good mechanic, she wanted to fix something if it was broken.

Lights-out had been ten minutes ago and the butterflies in her stomach still hadn't settled down. She couldn't blame it on the food, which had been healthy if plain and, after nearly forty-eight hours without anything to eat, greatly appreciated. She was scared.

The first time Gadget had seen the inside of a cell she had merely been confused and bewildered. By the time she had reached trial she was angry. Angry, but convinced this would all get straightened out and put right by someone. It hadn't been until Shrankshaw that the fear kicked in.

Now she was a sadder, wiser mouse.

If this were to be put right, she would have to be the one to do it. She had a plan and a lawyer and the truth on her side but on the inside of a cell she couldn't stop thinking about the things she didn't have, like her freedom and her friends.

"Hello again, Red."

Gadget sat up in the half-light. The voice had come from nearby her cell. It was familiar, yet Gadget couldn't place it until she looked and saw Warden Phelps standing outside her cell.

"Warden? For a moment, I thought –"

"That it was a friend? No. The others haven't been recaptured. I doubt you would have been if you hadn't chosen to give yourself up." Gertrude Phelps looked as though she had been run ragged. "Normally I'd applaud such an action," she went on, "but I'm beginning to suspect you might have caused everyone less trouble if you had kept your mouth shut and just gone back to your old life."

The custody officer who had searched Gadget earlier brought a folding chair out to the warden so she could sit down, smiled and nodded to politely to Gadget, and then left so they could have some privacy. The warden didn't thank her. She simply sat down as gracefully as possible.

"I couldn't do that." Gadget said. "If I'd kept quiet, people wouldn't know there was a problem with the system and if they don't know, they won't fix it. Besides, I'd have only been sent back to you when Dale woke up and remembered that someone who looked like me clonked him on the head with my favourite wrench."

"Everyone here seems to think that Chip did that." The warden frowned, remembering the strong-headed, opinionated chipmunk that had visited her prison.

"He didn't. It was my double." Gadget grinned to herself. "My evil twin."

"An evil twin. That's so corny, even the convicts don't use it any more." The warden shook her head in disbelief.

Gadget shrugged. "So my life is corny. I live in a tree house with four guys and we fly around in a bleach bottle aeroplane, saving the world from the bad guys. Evil twins come with the territory."

Warden Phelps swallowed this with visible difficulty. "I've been speaking to Lieutenant Talpidae."

"Who?" Gadget shook her head, absentmindedly.

"You don't know him?"

"I'm reasonably sure I've never heard of him. Of course, I say reasonably sure, but I'm notoriously absentminded and I'm always forgetting people's names. Though people don't always give you their names when you're dealing with them, do they?" Gadget prattled carelessly, her attention staring hard at her memory and trying to intimidate it into working properly.

"Apparently he's dealing with your case now." Phelps told her.

"I dealt with a Detective Doyle." Gadget said thoughtfully.

"Talpidae seems to be his superior. I think he's taken over. From what he tells me, you're very likely to find yourself back in my care by morning." The warden said severely.

"Seriously? They're going to send me back even though they know that I was telling the truth now?" Gadget got of her bunk. She had known it was a possibility, but she had hoped otherwise.

"You confessed to several serious offences." The warden pointed out. "For what it's worth, now that I know you are who you say you are, I'm horrified, but I can't see a way out of it."

"But the original conviction was bogus! Surely I'm entitled to a new trial!" Gadget's voice rose in distress.

"Yes, you certainly are." Phelps agreed. "But until you get it, the book says you should be in prison."

Gadget looked at her steadily. "I'm not asking for special treatment."

The warden took on a more sympathetic posture. "For what it's worth, I don't see how your conviction can stand. As soon as this gets before a judge, the prosecutor will probably say that they aren't contesting the case and you'll be free."

Gadget sighed and slumped back down onto her bunk. "I don't suppose that anyone's said how long that will be."

"No, they haven't and please don't ask me because I don't know either." Warden Phelps shook her head. "Look, I'm sorry, but I can't hold out false hope to you. You started a prison riot, broke out of Shrankshaw in the company of four dangerous criminals, and nearly killed Margo Haggs. Even when they dismiss the original charges against you, they're almost certainly going to convict you of something else."

"I didn't have a choice!" Gadget yelped.

"I don't know I agree with that." Phelps assumed her best school ma'am posture. "You could have written to your friends, or had your lawyer go to them."

"My lawyer was in hibernation until spring!"

Gertrude Phelps looked abashed. "Oh yes, I remember now." A puzzled look crossed her face. "I hear you're very well represented now."

Gadget began fidgeting. She balled her paws except for her index fingers, which she tried to make meet when she moved her paws towards each other, all without looking at them.

"He, uh, woke up." She said after a short silence.

"So breaking out didn't do you any good at all then, did it?" Gertrude Phelps demanded.

"Well he would have slept through to spring, if something hadn't gone wrong with the heating system." Gadget said defensively.

"But something did go wrong with it, so you would have been out as soon as – well, as soon as you were out of solitary and your lawyer had arranged a new trial." Phelps said triumphantly.

"If I hadn't broken out, something might not have gone wrong with the heating system." Gadget smiled weakly.

"What – Oh! I see!" The warden's voice took on a note of understanding. And disapproval. "I take it you left that out of your confession?"

Gadget laughed feebly. "I decline to answer on the grounds I might tend to incriminate myself."

"Spoken like a professional criminal!" The warden accused.

"Thank you." Gadget said before thinking. Then she clapped a hand over her mouth.

The warden stared at her in quiet fury. "I'm not sure that jail isn't the place for you, young lady. Perhaps we might teach you to put your inventive talents to better use."

Gadget jumped up from her bunk again and went over to the bars so she could be closer to her visitor.

"I was putting them to good use! I've been using them to rescue people my whole adult life! Seriously, Warden, do you see me becoming a better person as the result of going back to Shrankshaw? You know that people don't come out more innocent than when they went in." Gadget was pleading now. At some point she had accepted the warden as an authority figure and that meant her approval meant something Gadget.

"You might have come out innocent, if you hadn't caused chaos with this foolish escape attempt of yours!" The warden berated her.

Gadget couldn't quite meet the older mouse's eyes. "I think technically you would have to have caught me in the act for it to be an attempt." She pointed out.

"The fact the attempt succeeded is nothing to be proud of! Look at you! You're back in a cell!" The warden raised her voice.

"I gave myself up. Don't you see," Gadget begged with large blue eyes "I have to make the system work and I couldn't do it from inside Shrankshaw."

Gertrude tapped on the bars of Gadget's cell. "You think that you've got a better chance from inside there?"

Gadget lowered her eyes again. "I've done everything I can."

Phelps shook her head sadly. "Some of the things you've done would have been better left undone. Would three weeks in solitary have killed you?"

And this time Gadget could look the warden directly in the eyes. "Yes, warden. I know for a fact that it would have."

235

Half an hour later Gertrude Phelps walked out of the custody suite, her shoulders bowed and her head bowed in thought. Lieutenant Talpidae came down to meet her with a sheath of papers in his hand.

"How'd it go?" he asked immediately.

"It was… educational." Warden Phelps answered. "You haven't spoken to her yourself?"

"No. I watched from outside the interview room when she made her statement to one of our detectives." Talpidae fell into step alongside her. Since the cells were at the bottom of the building it was a short climb to the precinct lobby or a long one back to his office. Talpidae was hoping he could persuade the warden to go the extra distance.

"What did she say in her statement?" The warden seemed apprehensive.

Talpidae baited his hook. "Well, I believe I have a copy in my office. It's unconventional but I don't see any problem in letting you take a look at it."

"Would you? I have a lot to worry about and it would take a weight off my mind." The warden looked almost pathetically grateful.

Talpidae looked sideways at her and wondered just what Gadget had said during their little tête-à-tête. Smiling, he opened a door for the warden. "Well, when we take a look at it together I'm sure we'll find Miss Hackwrench gave your prison four stars."

"Somehow I very much doubt that, Lieutenant." The warden replied tersely and they walked the rest of the way to the Lieutenant's office in silence.

Once they were there, Talpidae made a show of sorting through the papers on his desk until he felt forced to admit that he had been holding Gadget's statement in his paw the whole time. Warden Phelps pulled a face, thinking of all the steps they had just walked up.

"It's not a big deal. I was hoping we could talk things over informally and my office is fairly private." Talpidae said as he offered her the statement and a chair.

Gertrude Phelps sat down to read the statement. Although she knew Gadget was an intolerable chatterbox, both from reputation and experience, it seemed that Gadget had been brief in confessing her sins. Not that she had many sins to confess to, the warden allowed, but the statement was so short, so succinct, that it almost sounded as if someone else had made it.

"Did she have a lawyer with her?" Warden Phelps asked.

"Yes. Her statement was very business like. They confirmed they had discussed it before coming in." Talpidae could guess her thoughts.

"You think her lawyer coached her? That probably accounts for it." Phelps mused.

Talpidae felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. "You can confirm that the person in our cells is the same one you had at Shrankshaw?"

Phelps laughed tiredly. "Well, of course she is. She said things that only Red, excuse me, I mean Hackwrench could know." A look of pained sympathy crossed her face. "Poor girl. I can't imagine going through one tenth of what she's been through and now it looks like she's going to have to go through it all again. This time without any hope of rescue."

Talpidae decided it was time to take a gamble. "Actually, I was hoping we might do something about that."

Phelps's eyes widened in surprise. "Just what did you have in mind?"

The old mole chuckled gently. "I take it we can both agree that locking up Gadget Hackwrench again doesn't serve the interests of justice. I say justice, not the law and certainly not my bosses who would be only to happy to see all the Ranger's locked if they can make it happen and still look like good guys doing it."

The mouse's jaw dropped. "What? But why?"

Talpidae poured himself a drink and another one Warden Phelps. "It seems my superiors feel the Ranger's are not a benefit to the community, that they are an unnecessary drain on city resources that we ourselves could better use. Probably use on getting bigger offices for my superiors, if you want to know my opinion."

Warden Phelps accepted the drink and slumped in the chair. "Well, I take it from that this conversation is completely off the record."

"Totally. I'll deny it if you bring it up in front of company."

"For some time now I've felt like my job is to burry other people's mistakes. Mistakes of the Correctional Department, the courts, the Street Watch, whatever outfit is peddling law and order – I've had a couple from the Rangers that come to mind, now that I think of it. Even so, I think the Ranger's try harder than most and they do save people on a regular basis, regardless of what species they are or what the danger is." The warden warmed to her subject. "I met Chip a few weeks ago when he visited Gadget in prison and he totally failed to recognise her. I thought he was narrow minded and opinionated at the time, but I never dreamed he'd fail to recognise one of his own team-mates."

"It's worse than that." Talpidae let her in on the joke. "Apparently Chip is in love with Gadget."

The warden gawked at him. "And he couldn't recognize her from a distance of six inches!"

"Love is blind. And apparently also pretty stupid." Talpidae poured himself another drink.

Gertrude Phelps held her glass out for a refill and they sat in silence for a moment or two. Then her curiosity propelled her to ask: "Does she know?"

"She hasn't said, we haven't mentioned it." Talpidae answered without looking up.

"If she does, she'll never forgive him." The warden prophesied.

"I can't see him forgiving himself, for that matter. He's confessed to attacking Dale but I think he made a false confession to protect Gadget, who was the only other suspect. Of course, if Gadget was with you until midnight last night, that lets her out and he's confessed to protect someone else." Talpidae filled her in.

"Her evil twin." The warden noticed Talpidae looking at her strangely. "That's what she calls the impostor." She frowned. "Perhaps I wasn't completely misguided in sending her to the psychiatrist."

"She said she received electroshock treatments." Talpidae's tone was decidedly accusatory.

"As did I and my deputy while we were trying to disconnect her from the machine!" The warden declared. "I never thought I'd be grateful for that, but it looks like a stroke of luck now!"

"How did that come about?" Talpidae asked, slipping into interrogation mode.

Warden Phelps took another mouthful of whatever Talpidae had poured in her glass. "Someone interfered with the paperwork and while I had my suspicions before, I have certainties now. Whatever faults Doctor Schadenfreude might have, he certainly doesn't approve of such treatments and would never think of using them on anyone at Shrankshaw."

"Why would someone do that? Try to get Gadget Hackwrench electrocuted?"

"She wasn't Gadget Hackwrench then. Just a crazy, troublesome inmate who acted like someone we thought she wasn't and who managed to get on the wrong side of one of our prison officers." Phelps said.

"Who?"

"Margo Haggs. She gets great results and we've never had any solid grounds for action against her but we've long suspected that she was showing us one face and quite another to the inmates. Someone's been bringing in contraband for a long time and we're sure it's a guard. The only time we found evidence to incriminate someone it was a young guard who had gotten on the wrong side of Margo, but she hadn't been there when the problem started." The warden stared at the Lieutenant's framed citations for a moment, deep in thought. "Margo has always said that if I tightened the search routines the way she wanted, the problem would go away."

The lieutenant tactfully didn't ask how Margo wanted the searches tightened. Instead he asked how Gadget had found herself on Margo's bad side.

"I don't know exactly. Something she said when they first met caused her to be singled out, I think, but the real trouble started when Miss Hackwrench voluntarily handed over a lock pick during the search and my deputy prevented Margo from taking her off for a more detailed… examination." The warden remembered Marion Cedar telling her about it well.

Talpidae winced at the thought. "So basically there was an ongoing quarrel between you, your deputy and this Margo Haggs and Miss Hackwrench got caught in the cross-fire."

Warden Phelps nodded. "It didn't help that she befriended Bubbles McGee. McGee was a hardened criminal, convicted for robbery likely to attract human investigation at about the same time as Miss Hackwrench's bad luck. Miss Hackwrench passed us information via her psychiatrist that Haggs was brutalising McGee to find out where her cut of the proceeds were, presumably so that she could retrieve it for herself or turn it in for a reward."

"You think that escalated things?" Talpidae knew the question was redundant as he asked it.

"Definitely. It was after that Margo started working in our psychiatric wing and Miss Hackwrench got her hair frizzed." The warden said decisively. "About the only thing that happened to her that I can't blame on Margo was the riot."

"The one Miss Hackwrench started?"

Warden Phelps gave a short laugh. "Right now, I would say she finished it. From what she told me, Haggs carted off McGee to solitary so she could squeeze her for information in private then spread the rumour that Hackwrench had informed on McGee as a cover. Hackwrench claims that a mob was going to tear her limb from limb and that she was merely defending herself. Apparently taking out half the prison was just side-effect."

Talpidae smiled. "I take it you don't really want her back, then?"

The warden grimaced. "To tell you the truth part of me would love to see her in a medieval dungeon for what she's done to my prison but, no, I'd rather she went anywhere but Shrankshaw."

For the first time, Talpidae began to think he had misjudged. "You really think she belongs behind bars then?"

"No, certainly not. It doesn't serve anyone's interests to see her back behind bars now the truth is known. It would bring the whole system into disrepute. But I don't see an alternative, either."

"I think I do." Talpidae told her. "Most of the charges against her would normally be dealt with internally, yes?"

The warden mulled it over. "A visiting justice would pass a sentence based on the recommendation of senior officers and myself for lesser offences but something as serious as a riot would normally be a matter for the courts."

"But the severity of the charges, they're based on your assessment of the situation as the Warden of Shrankshaw." Talpidae pressed.

"Yes. Yes, perhaps I could make them go away. We have Miss Hackwrench's statement that she was defending herself and we failed to protect her. The guard who was supervising the laundry quit on the spot and I only have the other word of the other prisoners that Gadget incited the riot." Warden Phelps sniffed and looked at Talpidae. "I could simply drop those charges. I might have difficulty explaining it to my superiors, but I could do it."

Talpidae nodded and waved a finger at her. "The question is though, will you do it?"

Warden Phelps thought about it and nodded. "Yes. She's more use to society outside prison than inside it and she's only going to get worse the longer we have her. I've seen her type before. Quick learners who learn too quickly for their own good."

Talpidae leaned forward in his own chair. "What about the escape?"

"Haven't got as much freedom there." Warden Phelps said distractedly. "But now that she's told me her reasons for breaking out I don't see what else she could have done. She claims that Haggs found out that she really was Gadget Hackwrench and decided she knew too much to live."

"You're telling me that one of your guards found out that your inmate was really Gadget and decided to kill her and cover it up rather than tell anyone?" Talpidae stood in amazement.

Warden Phelps looked as though she deeply regretted saying anything. She narrowed her eyes and paid close attention to her glass as she took another sip.

"Yes." She admitted carefully after a moment. "I know it doesn't do us much credit but as I said earlier, while we've had our suspicions about Margo we've never been able to prove anything."

"Will Gadget testify to that?" Talpidae asked.

"She would, I'm sure. But under the circumstances any competent lawyer would rip her testimony to shreds." Warden Phelps pointed out.

"Where is Margo Haggs now?" Talpidae demanded.

"Ironically, I understand she's at the same hospital that Miss Hackwrench's previous lawyer and her injured friend are being treated at." Warden Phelps began massaging her brow. "Her injuries weren't serious, a concussion and heavy bruising to the entire front of her body. We thought she had broken every bone in her body at first but she seems to lead a charmed life."

Talpidae sat back down and finished his drink while he thought things over. After a moment he became aware that Gertrude Phelps was watching him closely. "I'm trying to think of a way out of this for everyone. If you have any bright ideas, I wouldn't mind hearing them."

Phelps shrugged. "If it's bright ideas you want then by all accounts you have the brightest mind in the city locked in your basement."

Talpidae glanced at the clock. "It's past one in the morning now. If she has any sense she's asleep, lucky girl."

"Tell me about it. Thanks to her antics in the laundry yesterday, I haven't slept in going on forty-eight hours." The warden replied tersely.

Talpidae nodded. "There's no rest for the wicked. I doubt I'll see my bed until sometime late tomorrow and Doyle, the detective who took Gadget's statement, had worked two days straight when I sent him home."

The warden laughed and finished her drink. "I'll talk all night if you think we can find a way out of this, but I doubt we'll come up with anything when we're this tired. It doesn't seem fair when I think of Gadget curled up in her cell down there."

Talpidae smiled. "We could always go down and wake her up. After all, I'm told she's the brightest mind in the city."

236

The next morning Gadget woke in her cell and felt a moment of disorientation before remembering the events of the last two days. She wished she could have had one night in her own bed before turning herself in but reminded herself that it wouldn't have been fair to Chip.

Breakfast was brought to the prisoners in their cells and Gadget tried to pretend that it was breakfast in bed, but the oatmeal sat uncomfortably on her stomach when she remembered her own first days in captivity and thought of what Chip might be going through. Let alone what he still had coming.

After breakfast the inmates were taken to the showers in groups of four.

Gadget washed with a casualness that surprised her fellow prisoners.

Still, it felt good to be clean again. She hadn't washed since the morning after Haggs had taken Bubbles away, when the other inmates had stolen her clothes.

Back in her cell, Gadget quickly became reacquainted with the boredom of waiting for nothing to happen. The minutes dragged like fingernails against a chalkboard. When three guards arrived without notice to take her back to Shrankshaw, it was almost a relief.

It seemed in spite of everything, the hard work of her apologetic lawyer who said he was being stonewalled by the prosecutors, the long talk she had had with Warden Phelps the night before and the many plans she had made, the wheels of justice still had a firm hold on her and were dragging her back into their merciless machinery.

Gadget was cuffed, leg-ironed and led out of the precinct through the back door like a shameful secret that had to be kept hidden from the prying eyes of the public. The storm drains were still dangerously swollen from the rain of the night before so instead of being led to a sewer boat like last time, Gadget was hustled into a hidden compartment in the underside of a Correctional Department bus where she sat with two guards. She felt hot and suffocated as they listened to the sounds of human feet shuffling inches above their heads.

The bus made good time to the human prison and it drew to a halt directly over a drain cover that served as another secret entrance to the hidden world below. Very quickly Gadget found herself trudging down a wet, dark tunnel that ended in an anonymous grey room that seemed large and empty. Standing in the middle of the room was Warden Phelps.

Next to her was Marion Cedar, her deputy.

"Miss Hackwrench." Warden Phelps said without meeting her eye in a cold, professional voice.

"Warden." Gadget replied coolly.

The warden turned to the two guards who had brought Gadget back to Shrankshaw. "I can see you've had a long hot journey. We can handle this from here."

The guards exchanged glances then left hurriedly. One of them cast a sympathetic look in Gadget's direction as she went.

"Are you going to un-cuff me?" Gadget asked.

"You will address me as Warden, or Ma'am, and only when I speak to you first." The warden rebuked her. "Our security procedures have been tightened up since your last induction, two-four-six-oh-one. You will not be treated differently from any other inmate during your stay here. However, since you are the first inmate to enter the prison since the Correctional Department instituted these changes and since you a single inmate rather than part of a group induction, Ms Cedar and myself will be dealing with your induction. Or should I say re-induction."

Gadget's shoulders slumped. "I – I understand, Warden. Can we please just get this over with?"

"No hurry." The warden returned, as though they had all day. "We'll start by booking in the possessions you had with you when you were arrested. I'll need you to confirm each one of them is yours and then we're supposed to move on to the more… intimate parts of your induction."

Gadget soon found herself shivering again. She began to wonder what sort of person she would be by the time this was all over. Would she recognise herself? Could she blame Chip if he did not?

Then she was struggling back into a prison uniform and following the warden through the twisting, turning corridors and tunnels of the prison. The inmates she passed nudged each other and whispered. They stared and pointed. There she is. That's her. She nearly destroyed the prison but they brought her back anyway.

She could see fear in their eyes.

Fear of her.

Gadget shivered again. When she was finally free and had time to look back at this, would she be someone she liked?

They were standing in a familiar corridor.

"This is the way to solitary." Gadget said. "Ma'am." She added hastily.

"You are being returned to solitary to complete the three week sentence I gave you after the riot. You will be allowed visits from your lawyer only." The warden replied. "What did you expect? That I'd give you another chance to destroy the prison?" She arched an eyebrow. "Maybe let you near the heating system this time?"

Gadget walked the rest of the way to her cell in silence, her head bowed.

"We're going to improve the locks, but until we do there will be a guard outside your cell day and night. That's in case you decide to pull another disappearing trick on us." The warden added. "The guard will have orders not to speak to you. Do not attempt to engage them in conversation or I may just add a day to your sentence."

The warden might have been making a private joke but Gadget felt her toes and fingers tingle a little. She could potentially be in here a very long time.

The door from the cell Haggs had broken out of still lay on its side in the solitary block.

"We'll be putting you in this cell for the rest of your stay." Marion Cedar said as she opened a door.

Gadget stared at the cell, then at the deputy warden. It could have been coincidence, but the cell the chipmunk had chosen was the cell Bubbles had been in. It would probably still have her scent in it. The deputy warden's face was kindly, more from habit than expression, but if she intended this as a mercy no hint of it showed in her face.

"Thank you." Gadget said and entered the cell.

"Thank you, Ma'am." The deputy warden replied sternly.

The door closed and Gadget was alone in the dark, in a cramped cell that wasn't even large enough to lie down in.

And they left her there.

237

"What the heck do you mean you can't find them? Are you telling me they've gone into hiding? That they're on the run?" Sherwood demanded.

He sounded almost hopeful when he said the last part.

Talpidae took a deep breath and counted to three before answering. "We asked Dale when we formally interviewed him at the hospital. Apparently Monterey Jack and Zipper were given a secret mission yesterday afternoon and will be out of contact for at least forty-eight hours. Dale claims he doesn't know what the mission is or where they've gone because he's on the injured list and therefore doesn't need to know."

They were in the hallways of the Street Watch precinct. It would be naïve to say that people weren't listening. At the volume Sherwood was using, it was a wonder the humans on the other side of the wall couldn't hear him. Talpidae let the squirrel rage and delicately steered him towards the office.

"Secret mission? Need to know? They're not secret agents, they're a search and rescue team for crying out loud!"

Talpidae drew a sigh of relief and closed the door behind them. This time he didn't need to count before answering. "Yes sir, that's true, but apparently the City Council only pays half the Ranger's funding. The Rescue Aid Society pays the other half and reserves the right to call on their resources at any time."

"The Rescue Aid Society? They're supposed to be a charitable organisation! Are you telling me we'd let them leave town if they owed the Salvation Army a favour?" Sherwood was close to foaming at the mouth.

Talpidae winced, hating that he was the one who had to tell his superior this and loving that he would get to see Sherwood's expression when he heard it. "Actually sir, it's sort of an open secret that the Rescue Aid Society is based in the human United Nations building and that they're a front for the Congress of Mice."

"The City Congress of Mice?" Sherwood sounded confused. Well, he was a Squirrel. This was foreign politics to him just as it was to Talpidae.

"No sir. The City Congress of Mice is one of their chapters, like a local lodge. They have a seat on the city council where I don't doubt they'll be making their voice heard, but I'm talking about the World Congress of Mice." Talpidae clarified. "Which, as you know, is very powerful in the Rodentia Parliament."

Sherwood stared at him. Rodentia was a fancy biologist's word that covered anyone from a field mouse to a little girl's pet hamster. The Rodentia Parliament was the closest thing to a world government that anything small and scurrying could lay claim to. Unlike the human race, whose time was taken up with bickering and backstabbing, it was a united, powerful and effective organisation. It had to be, in order to survive in the shadows of the warring giants that owned the world.

The squirrel sat down in the nearest chair, without bothering to move his bushy tail out of the way first. The career-minded office politician looked unusually unkempt and uncollected and Talpidae guessed the pressure was getting to him.

"Right. Fine." The squirrel said eventually. "It changes nothing. They're out of contact and that works both ways. What did Dale say when we interviewed him?"

Talpidae opened a file on his desk and consulted a piece of paper. "Dale walked into get some blank paper and pencils from Gadget and found the impostor writing a full confession along with a goodbye note. See ya later, suckers, or some such, I'd imagine. He realised she wasn't Gadget – probably only because she'd signed it with her real name which he recognised from one of the Rangers' earlier cases – and got clonked on the head before he could raise the alarm."

Sherwood considered this. A thought seemed to come to him. "Is Chip Maplewood more or less the only one in the city who doesn't know about this yet?"

"Well, I haven't had time to see the newspapers this morning, what with me having worked right through the night and everything, so I don't know what the whole city knows. That said, I gave orders that Maplewood shouldn't be told anything about either investigation and he's in isolation so the other prisoners can't get at him, so he won't have heard from any of the prisoners. I'd say there's a good chance that Chip Maplewood doesn't know a thing about this."

Sherwood stood. "Well, I guess someone better tell him and it might as well be me."

"No!" Talpidae jumped up in alarm.

Sherwood stared at him from the doorway in amazement.

"I mean…" Talpidae shrugged and smiled. "Not yet. He's such a big shot detective and all. We're kind of enjoying it."

Sherwood continued to stare at him for a moment then grinned. "Are people betting on how long it will take him to figure it out?"

Talpidae winced. "You know that gambling is against Street Watch regulations, sir."

"Yes. But it happens anyway." Sherwood looked away. "Well, I won't spoil the fun. I can be one of the guys too, Talpidae."

Talpidae, who had never met anyone he considered to be less "one of the guys", smiled and nodded. "It's just until his probable cause hearing.

"Is there any word on when that will be yet?"

"We're holding off as long as we can. Just in case we need to… rethink things." Sherwood closed the door behind him.

Talpidae breathed a sigh of relief.


	33. Vengeance for Margo Haggs

_**Disclaimer**_

In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone… except a certain kind of lawyer.

**Chapter Thirty-Three**

**Vengeance for Margo Haggs**

238

Margo Haggs lay in a hospital bed, grateful for the painkillers the doctor's had given her. She was, according to the doctors, in remarkably good condition considering she had been slammed face first into a wall. Her nose was broken. She had cried in private when she found out. Her skull was intact but the doctors insisted in keeping her in for twenty-four hours in case her concussion presented complications.

The doctor's insistence had one curious complication of its own. She had been admitted at approximately two in the morning. It meant that if their prescription were followed to the letter she would be released at two a.m. the following night. For convenience, she was being kept in until morning when the storm drains had cleared from the storm and she could catch a ride back to her own part of town.

Although she enjoyed the attention and admiration due to a wounded hero who had been injured attempting to foil the escape of dangerous people, Haggs hated the medical prodding and probing of the Doctors and the helpless feeling of being in someone else's power. It reminded her too strongly of the laboratory where she had been born and raised, and she couldn't wait to be free again.

At a little past eleven in the morning a nurse came with a wheelchair.

"What's this?" Haggs demanded irritably.

"I'm taking you to see a specialist so your head can be examined." The young gerbil said carelessly.

"I beg your pardon?" Haggs was un-amused.

"Oh, your head injury, I mean!" The gerbil blushed under her pretty tan fur. "A few questions to see if you've suffered any memory loss and since your twenty-four hours' observation is up you can go home straight away." The nurse told her.

"More tests." Haggs growled bitterly.

The nurse took her to a waiting room and left her next to a young chipmunk with a bandaged head. Haggs sat sullenly, feeling stupid and exposed in the backless hospital gown.

"They sure like to keep people waiting, don't they?" The chipmunk said unexpectedly after several minutes of silence.

"They certainly do." Haggs agreed with feeling.

"I've seen enough of these places recently to last me a life-time!" The chipmunk returned with equal feeling.

Haggs had no interest in hearing the details. She pretended not to hear.

"Do you know which of us is next?" The chipmunk asked after another half minute of silence.

"I'm afraid I don't, but you were here first so it seems obvious that they'll call you before me." Haggs replied.

"I don't think it works like that. They bring you up whenever someone is available to take you here and then they see you in whatever order they've already worked out." The chipmunk said. "Oh, sometimes it's alphabetic order, though. What's your name?"

"Haggs." Margo Haggs replied.

"Mine's Oakmont. Dale Oakmont. So if they're doing it that way they'll take you first." The chipmunk seemed pleased with himself for working out that he might have to wait longer than seemed reasonable to be poked and prodded.

"Hmm." Haggs agreed disinterestedly.

After another half minute of silence Haggs grew impatient. "I don't really see why all this is necessary. I'm only bruised, apart from my nose. I was supposed to go home after breakfast this morning, only I never got any."

"Really?" Dale seemed interested. "I had oatmeal with walnut shavings.

"Still, better safe than sorry. Head injuries can be funny things. Take it from me, I've had some beauties in my time."

Haggs glanced across at him in surprise. "You get head injuries… often?"

"Oh yes, it goes with the lifestyle, I guess." Dale told her.

"Lifestyle?" She was about to ask whether Dale was a circus performer or some kind of daredevil when she realised whom she was talking to. "OH!

"You're **that** Dale Oakmont? The Rescue Ranger?"

Dale smiled at her guilelessly. "Sure! Why, is there another Dale Oakmont anywhere about?" He looked around as if expecting to see a carbon copy of himself propping up a wall somewhere.

"It's not important!" Haggs said hastily. She had more of the company of Rescue Rangers than she could stand for the time being and struggled to stand. "I think I'll just get a drink of water."

"You know your hospital gown doesn't do up at the back, right?" Dale grinned at her with a devilish gleam in his eye.

Haggs sat carefully back down again.

"Ah, it's kind of silly to worry about it, when you consider we're both covered by fur and all. Heck, out in the boondocks people run around wearing nothing else!" Dale laughed.

Haggs forced a brief, awkward smile. "All the same, I think I'll wait to get that water."

Dale shrugged it off. "If it bothers you, I'll get that drink for you."

The chipmunk batted his eyelashes at her. "No peeking now!" he said with mock coyness.

"I certainly wouldn't - !" Haggs spluttered.

But Dale was already up and halfway across the room to the water fountain. Haggs lifted an eyebrow cynically but didn't look away.

"Oh, hey! You peeked!" he said with false dismay when he turned back with the water.

"I – you – Hrumph!" Haggs took the water and drank it in one gulp. "Do all the Rangers treat life like one big joke?"

"Nope! I'm the only one!" Dale said proudly. It was impossible to tell if he was kidding or not.

"Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you, but I think I'll come back some other time. This doctor has clearly forgotten all about us…"

"Oh, I wouldn't do that." Dale sat next to her. "They won't let you out if this exam isn't completed."

Haggs cursed. "Lot of nonsense. I'm perfectly fine."

"Keen to get back to work?" Dale asked.

"Actually, I've been given a week off." Haggs admitted. "And I certainly need the rest."

"Well, you don't want to spend it all in this place, do you?"

"No." Haggs agreed and reluctantly stayed put.

"What do you do, anyway?" Dale asked idly.

"Prison guard." Haggs said shortly.

"No kidding?"

Haggs lifted an eyebrow at Dale. Perhaps he was being polite but something about the chipmunk's tone struck her as false.

"Is that how you got hurt?" Dale asked.

"Yes." Haggs replied thoughtfully. "I was trying to stop the escape of five dangerous criminals. One of them cut a line I was climbing and I fell."

"That was pretty brave of you." Dale offered. It sounded sincere.

"Thank you." Haggs smiled in a self satisfied way.

"I'm here because I got clonked on the head by a team-mate." Dale shook his head. "At least, I think it was a team-mate. It's kind of mixed up in my head."

Haggs was surprised. She'd been in hospital when the scandal broke, so she knew nothing of Chip's incarceration. "Who?"

"Oh, it's kind of confused."

"Well, I've heard that can happen with head injuries." Haggs said, giving up.

"Perhaps if I could tell someone though, I'd be able to make sense of it." Dale said almost to himself. "Say, would you mind if I told you?"

"Certainly." Haggs consented. "Anything to help pass the time."

"I went to borrow something from Gadget, our pilot, and she hit me over the head with something."

Haggs considered this.

"That actually sounds pretty straightforward." She suggested.

Dale looked sideways at her. "I guess I can be pretty annoying sometimes."

"Perhaps." Haggs allowed. "It's no excuse for putting you in hospital, though." She added severely.

"They found Chip dragging my body out of the house in a garbage sack and everyone thought I was dead, so now my best friend is in jail for being an accessory to attempted murder. I always thought an accessory was something a girl bought because it went with her dress. You know, like a handbag or something."

Haggs nodded carefully. Clearly she was in the presence of an idiot. "I think it has another meaning, in legal terms."

"I guess." Dale snuffled. "I can really see Chip as a handbag though. A really ugly one."

"That's the spirit." Haggs smiled at the thought. Chip was still a potential threat to her. If he knew what had happened to Gadget the truth behind Haggs' meeting with him would be only a step away. Yes, she thought the chipmunk would make a fine handbag.

"So today, Gadget walked into a Sweeper precinct and said it couldn't have been her because we got her mixed up with the impostor who was running around a few months ago and locked her up instead. So it must have been the impostor who hit me over the head." Dale shook his head in puzzlement.

"You're kidding." Haggs said in a feeble voice.

"No, really it's true. At least, she really walked into the precinct and said that." Dale looked baffled.

Haggs wondered if she should run for the door.

"Now no one knows what to do with her. They can't find the impostor, either one who broke out of prison or one who clonked me over the head, so they have to take her word for it."

"Surely they aren't going to just take her word for EVERYTHING?" Haggs pleaded weakly.

"The thing is no one believes her. I don't care if it's true or not, I just want things to go back to the way they were. Only now they say she has to go back to prison to serve the sentence the impostor got."

"What? They sent her BACK?" Haggs stood without care or thought about her backless hospital gown.

"Yeah. The Sweepers who came to visit me said that Gadget told them she'd sure have something to say to those prison inspectors who are going to inspect the place, and I don't blame her! But the Sweepers say she's got to stay there until they can prove she's lying and charge her with hurting me, or until there can be another trial to find she's not an impostor, in which case they're going to put her on trail for breaking out of prison!" Dale glared at Haggs indignantly. "It ain't right, I tell you!"

"No." Haggs agreed absently. But where Dale saw a great and terrible injustice, she only saw a great and wonderful opportunity.

"I guess they don't want to admit they messed up and, if they have to, they want it to be someone else's fault. Her fault." Dale snuffled.

"If she'll say she made it all up so she didn't have to admit to hurting you," Haggs said reassuringly, "then all you have to do is tell the Sweepers it was an ordinary assault and that you don't want to press charges."

"You think so?" Dale asked hopefully.

"Certainly." Haggs sounded a little worried. She was afraid it might actually happen. "By a stroke of good fortune, I think I happen to work in the very prison where your friend is being kept. Since it doesn't serve anyone's interest to keep her there longer than necessary, I'll take her a message from you, so that she knows that you bear her no hard feelings."

"You think you could persuade her to change her mind about all this?"

Dale grinned eagerly, his chipmunk tail whirring in happiness.

"I'm sure I can… prevail upon her." Haggs said. The words should have been reassuring, but there was steel in her tone that sent a chill up the chipmunk's spine.

"Gee." Dale swallowed hard. "That would be swell."

"Haggs? Margo Haggs?" A brown rat in a white coat called through a door.

"See, told ya! Alphabetical." Dale grinned as the doctor wheeled Margo Haggs away.

239

Gadget had a lot to think about. The good news was she had plenty of time to do it in. Bubbles' old solitary cell had her name and a date scratched on the wall. Gadget brushed her paw across the scratches and smiled fondly.

Four dangerous criminals were still at large. She wondered where they were. If Gadget knew Bubbles, her first thought would be of her children, now and always. Of course, Bubbles had made it perfectly clear that she had no intention of going back to the one place the police would be sure to look first. Gadget's thoughts turned to what might have happened had she stayed with the others.

She wouldn't be in a cell now; that was for sure.

She thought about Chip. Chip Maplewood, three and seven twelfths of an inch tall, nut-brown fur and deep, dark serious eyes, who prided himself on his skills as a leader and a detective. Again the old anger welled up. How dare he not know the difference between her and some other blonde who batted her eye in his general direction?

Not that she batted her eyes in Chip's direction, Gadget thought. Did she?

Perhaps she did.

Certain moments came back to her as she considered. Gadget and Chip sharing coffee before anyone else was awake, along with smiles, looks, moments of semi-accidental contact that caused one or the other to blush, along with accounts of their less embarrassing dreams. In a word, flirting.

Flirting on a regular basis, even.

Flirting every morning for years on end, in fact.

Gadget was still smothering her laughter at the thought of Gadget-The-Flirt when she was confronted by the even more unlikely image of Gadget-The-Tease.

In spite of all their pleasant mornings together, they had never openly acknowledged that they were flirting, let alone taken things to the next level.

Gadget thought back and more un-regarded moments rose up in her mind's eye like accusing spectres.

Chip at her workshop door trying to strike up conversation for no reason. She was busy, anything but grateful for the distraction. Chip asking her if she'd like to have dinner sometime and Gadget absentmindedly pointing out that they ate dinner together every night. While also reminding him it was his turn to cook.

In spite of all these careless rebuffs, Gadget had never once stopped flirting with Chip over the breakfast table. Or even noticed she was doing it.

Gadget shuddered. She had been cruel – and not just to Chip. She'd enjoyed plenty of late night movies with Dale. Not all of them at home, some at the cinema. Sometimes Chip and the others tagged along (often at the last minute) and sometimes… they didn't.

A girl and a boy going to the cinema alone together constituted a date. Even Gadget knew that.

She had, quite inadvertently, been cruel to both of them.

It was no excuse that she hadn't realised she was being cruel to them, that was just another way of saying she had been too wrapped up in herself to care.

Sighing deeply, Gadget reflected that if she were to get out of her current predicament she would have to make amends to both of them. There hadn't been many times in her life when felt the need for feminine advice. Now it bothered her that the person best qualified to give her that advice was Lawhiney.

Gadget imagined the sort of advice Lawhiney would most likely offer and blushed. She would have preferred to ask Bubbles but, unless the warden frogmarched her into the next cell, it seemed unlikely she would get the chance.

Slowly, after the hectic rush of hours over the last twenty-four hours, time crawled by.

240

Someone timidly cleared their throat.

Warden Phelps didn't notice at first. Then they did it again. She looked up.

Margo Haggs was leaning over the warden's temporary desk. Her face was barely a hand span away.

"Good God!" Phelps understandably started backwards.

"Excuse me, Warden." Haggs said politely. "I didn't mean to startle you. I was just looking for my time card."

"I didn't expect to see you so – " The warden broke off with a look of horror.

"So soon? Well, I realise you gave me the week off, but I know how short handed the prison is at the moment and the doctors have released me." Haggs gushed.

"Of course! Well, if you're fit, then as you say we're very short handed." Gertrude Phelps tried to collect herself.

"My time card? Have you seen it anywhere?"

Warden Phelps shook her head, more to clear it than to answer the question. "You were injured. The timekeeper probably put it in the leave folder."

She fished around in a desk draw until she found the folder, then removed Margo Haggs' card.

"Thank you." Haggs said as she clocked in. "And an hour early for the evening shift."

"You're certain you want to be here?" Phelps asked again, frowning at Haggs.

Haggs turned and smiled with frightening honesty. "I can't think of anywhere else in the world that I would want to be."

Phelps smiled and nodded, as one does in answer to the slightly mad.

241

In spite of everything that had happened, Shrankshaw Prison still ran in three eight hour shifts just as it always had. Haggs had arrived an hour early for the two to ten shift and was careful not to let anyone see how tired she was or how much her bruises hurt. Her rooftop encounter with Gadget had left her smarting in more ways than one. She bit back complaints and concentrated on her work until she could steal a moment to work on her plans.

Her last attempt to kill Gadget Hackwrench in the solitary cells had floundered on a single but obvious weakness. She had relied on Bubbles McGee to actually do the deed. Regardless of the fact that Gadget had escaped her cell before Haggs and McGee arrived on the scene, McGee had never had the slightest intention of killing her cellmate. She would have turned the knife on Haggs the moment "Red" was free to help and might possibly, Haggs conceded, have overpowered her even if she hadn't turned her back to examine the empty cell.

Looking back, Haggs sneered at her own foolish weakness. To rely on others in something so important -- and simply because she didn't want to get her hands dirty! Why, the complications involved in getting McGee out of the prison afterwards alone were enough to make her head spin. Or perhaps the painkillers the doctors had given her were doing that.

No matter.

McGee was history now. If not dead and eaten in the forest then on her way to a new life – of crime, no doubt – far, far away where she wouldn't bother Haggs with any inconvenient testimony or finger pointing, and likewise those annoying twins.

Good riddance to the lot of them.

Haggs worked hard. Not long after lunch the inspectors from the Correctional Department arrived at the front gate of the prison. Haggs was just wishing that "cracking the whip" could be more than a metaphor when Warden Phelps showed the four members of the inspection party through the door.

"Ms. Haggs." Phelps called to her. "Come here and be introduced to the prison inspectors."

Haggs signalled the inmates to lower the heavy piece of wood they were lifting.

"Always a pleasure to meet people from the department." She said, once she had made her way over to the little group of public servants.

The apparent leader, a vole with thick heavy glasses and a white beard and moustache, peered at her and shook her paw. "You must be Margo Haggs. I recognise you from the tribunal you gave evidence at. Ms. Phelps' predecessor, wasn't it?"

Haggs blushed. "That was some time ago. A most unfortunate business but I think you may be remembering the business with that young guard who was caught bringing contraband into the prison. That was more recent."

The old vole nodded. "Ah yes, I remember. You were a character witness. You spoke well of her to start off with but things fell apart rather badly under cross-examination. The prosecutor asked a couple of surprisingly well-informed questions. Put you in the awkward position of having to make things worse for the girl."

"If you don't mind, I'd rather not relive unhappy memories." Haggs said turning her face away. Five years, that was how long the girl had gotten after Haggs' "help".

A fat mouse lady pushed her way forward. She was dressed as though she had expected to go to a garden party. "I understand you've been very heroic?"

Haggs froze for an instant then rose to the occasion with a self-effacing chuckle. "Heroic isn't a word I like to use. I was merely doing what any dedicated officer would do in such circumstances."

"I understand you single-handedly almost prevented the escape." The mouse lady protested.

"Almost being the operative word, I'm afraid." Warden Phelps put in.

"I'm afraid that's true. All I got for my pains was a day in the hospital and some nasty bumps and bruises." Haggs played the modest, wounded hero for all she was worth, while at the same time seeming loyal to her superior. "Warden Phelps offered me a week's leave, but we're so short handed now it just wasn't possible."

"Yes…" Phelps said carefully, shooting Haggs a warning glance. "We're extremely short handed and have lost five guards in the last day alone. I'm certain that others are only holding on until the situation is stable before handing in their notice."

"How many guards do you normally have?" A white mouse with round glasses and a brown moustache asked. He looked like an accountant.

"Thirty-six. Some of you may recall I've wanted to increase that number to forty-two for some time now." Phelps instructed them. "That would have given us more slack to deal with a thing like this. As it is, I don't see how we're going to continue without more help."

"The only sane thing to do if things go on like this or, heaven forefend, get worse, is to keep the prisoners in their cells full time." Haggs suggested.

"Would that work?" Asked the accountant.

"No!" Phelps explained.

"It might." Haggs contradicted her.

Phelps glared at her.

"For a short time, I mean." Haggs nodded to the Warden by way of an apology. "We'd have to have professionals come in and do the repair work instead of using inmates, of course, but from a security point of view it would work very well. We'd only need a few guards to supervise some trustees as they brought food to the inmates in their cells."

"It certainly sounds feasible." The mouse lady's voice rose at the end of the sentence, as though she were asking a question.

"Conditions in many of the cells are very poor. To keep people cooped up that way twenty-four hours a day would be positively human!" Phelps warned them. "And without inmate work parties to repair the damage we'd be spending a fortune on getting contractors in to repair the damage. It's much cheaper to get replacement guards."

"We'll consider all our options." The accountant assured her.

"I'm sure you will." Phelps replied, sounding deeply worried and frustrated. "I believe you came here to interview a random inmate?"

"Yes. One from every section of the prison." The old vole replied.

"Excellent. Ms. Haggs, if you could pick someone from the work party." Phelps turned back to the inspectors and began to try to mitigate the damage Haggs had just caused.

Haggs strode quickly away rather than endure the humiliation of having to listen to her ideas being ridiculed. She noted that one of the inmates, Roxie, was following a handful of inmates being escorted away. Haggs followed her like a predator, timing her interception to take place just after they were out of sight of the inspectors and the warden.

As soon as they turned the corner Haggs snatched Roxie from the end of the line and slammed her up against the wall, pressing her forearm across Roxie's throat.

"How's the ear, Roxie?" Haggs whispered.

Roxie's eyes went longingly to the fast retreating back of the next inmate.

The guard leading the inmates away on their bathroom break looked back and raised her eyebrows. Then she turned away, opened the barred door with her key and left with the other inmates, locking the door behind her.

"Is it healing okay?" Haggs pressed Roxie.

Roxie's eyes went to her right ear with its missing semi-circle of skin. It marked her as being under Haggs' protection from the other inmates, but also as someone who allowed Haggs to rule her every waking moment.

"I remember how much you hated getting it done, but that little nick is going to look like a hickey compared to what I'll do if you don't make me proud of you." Haggs breathed into her maimed ear.

"Please?" Roxie fought off tears. "Just tell me what you want."

"Those prison inspectors want to talk to an inmate. They want to hear all the right things before they crawl back into their holes with their consciences clear. You're going to make it easy for them to do that. You are guilty, repentant, sorrowful, but well treated and well fed. Understood?"

"Do I have to be guilty? You know I didn't –"

Haggs cut her off by increasing the pressure her forearm was exerting on Roxie's throat. "I don't care for your delusions of innocence. Every prisoner in here is innocent. You know that. But they don't want to hear that."

Haggs lifted with her legs, pushing up against Roxie's head with her arm.

Roxie choked.

"Now go do what your told." Haggs dropped her.

Roxie fell to her knees and coughed until her throat was clear. She glared, but Haggs was behind her and she did it by staring at the floor when she was certain Haggs couldn't see her. She hated and wished she were free.

"Oh, one last thing." Haggs added. "It turns out Red is really Gadget Hackwrench. She had everything on the outside and she threw it all away. She's back in our solitary cells for breaking out right now. So feel free to trash talk her the way you did to the inmates all you want."

Roxie's face became a picture of betrayal and surprise.

"Red? Gadget Hackwrench?" she rasped. "I was on the same prison barge as her. I stood behind her. I was innocent!"

"Yeah, but Bubbles was in front of her and she's the one Gadget took with her when she busted out." Haggs drove the spike of indignation home.

"I was innocent. She would have understood." Roxie cursed.

"So what?" Haggs hissed.

"I could have gone with her." Roxie thumped the concrete with a fist.

"She's back in here and I'm still top of the food chain. Remember that." Haggs warned her.

"Yeah. I'll remember." Roxie muttered and pulled herself to her feet.

Haggs led her back to the prison inspectors with a smile that could pass for friendly or sinister depending on who was looking.

242

Gadget had been in her cell for what felt like most of the day. The lights outside had been left on, perhaps to make another escape attempt easier to detect. The simple addition of a chair under the door handle had made one far harder to achieve, however.

It was more or less impossible to judge accurately how much time had passed since Warden Phelps and Ms. Cedar had put her in here. She knew from past experience that thinking too much about that would lead to her trying to guess, then second guess, then doubt herself and perhaps eventually lose all confidence in herself. She concentrated on thinking about what she would do when she was released.

Jennifer. Her oldest friend had sent her to jail. Part of Gadget wanted to greet her dear old friend with a well-aimed kick in the rear when she saw her again. Then it came to Gadget that Jen was almost certainly going to find out about this through the newspapers before she could be told any other way.

Perhaps Jen would run away out of shame and Gadget would never see her again. Even if she didn't, a thing like this could wreck a friendship forever. Loss welled up in Gadget's heart until the only way to make room for it was to make space by shedding tears.

All tears feel like they will keep falling forever. They pass.

Eventually Gadget was left fiddling with the end of her tail with an unaccustomed stillness where her thoughts would normally be.

Into this stillness there came a question. What will Chip do when he realises he failed me?

Gadget gave this long and careful thought. If Chip was tough on the other members of the team, which he was, he was almost certainly tougher on himself. He wasn't likely to forgive himself for making a blunder of such epic proportions.

She had already lost one friend, Bubbles, in the course of this disaster. She had just finished weeping at the realisation that she might never salvage her friendship with Jen. Was she going to lose Chip too? She thought of their morning coffee sessions and realised she would miss them sharply.

Who else was she going to lose? Monty would never forgive himself. Dale – well, Dale was Dale and thought the whole thing was a tremendous joke. She could rely on the team clown to be the same as ever. But…

If Chip left the Rangers, Dale would go with him. There was no doubt of that.

Monty, for all his love, had itchy feet and an adventurous heart. Without the Rangers to keep him in the city how long would it be before he went on some globe trotting adventure, taking Zipper with him?

Gadget thought of the old plane where the Rangers had found her and wondered if she would return there; alone, with nothing but her memories and not all of them pleasant, to keep her company.

It seemed that catching up with Lawhiney and proving her innocence was only half the battle. She had a long way to go before could truly say she had taken back the life that had been stolen from her and she did want that life back, complete with its warring chipmunks, flirting over morning coffee and late night creature features.

Gadget sighed. She knew that sooner or later she would have to make a choice between the last two, Godzilla or freshly roasted morning coffee with a dash of maple syrup. Godzilla or maple syrup…

Gadget thought about maple syrup and found she was blushing. Chip's last name was Maplewood. She'd never considered the implications before.

"Oh, I'm just going to **have** to find a way out of all this." She murmured softly to herself with a secret smile.

243

Margo Haggs had made a point of taking time out from her duties to see the prison inspectors out of the prison. She waved fondly to the last of the busybodies and when she turned away she turned the same gesture into dusting off the palms of her hands.

So far as she could tell, none of the VIPs had gotten anywhere near hearing anything Gadget Hackwrench had to say. She'd asked after their progress through the prison at strategic intervals and no one had thought it strange, not when so many guards were worrying about the future of their jobs. The four strangers had never gone anywhere near the undamaged upper levels. It seemed they were solely concerned with damage caused by the Hackwrench flood.

Haggs smiled. If they knew, they would send her a thank you note.

At ten p.m. Haggs clocked out on the excuse that she had already put in an hour's overtime at the start of her shift. Marion Cedar wanted her to stay until eleven but Haggs got out of it on the grounds it was her first day back.

After she clocked out, Haggs headed back into the prison, telling the other officers who were coming off shift that she had forgotten something and that she would be out in ten minutes. No one felt like waiting for her.

Instead of following them out as she said she would, Haggs found a quiet part of the prison and sat down to rest. The working parties were done. All the prisoners were locked down. The only guards were the ones patrolling the corridors and keeping watch at the checkpoints. Being underground, Shrankshaw had no guard towers.

She waited an hour. She was a careful person and a clever one, or so she liked to think, so she spent the time thinking over her plans.

It seemed reasonable to suppose that Hackwrench's naivety was an act. Perhaps she had even been testing Haggs when she opened her mouth at the prison gates and Haggs slapped her down. She had proven adept at hand-to-hand combat and had been able to nearly destroy the prison given the slightest access to the most mundane machinery. She had been able to get out of a locked solitary cell and break out of a facility that had never been escaped from before.

Haggs couldn't yet say that she had survived Gadget Hackwrench, not even with Gadget unexpectedly betrayed by the system she upheld and back in a maximum-security cell. It was a betrayal that didn't surprise Haggs in the slightest, given the damage she had done to the prison.

Haggs ground her teeth together and suppressed a growl. **Her** prison.

She didn't care that both the Warden and the Deputy outranked her. Haggs ran this place. Not them. They had no idea. No idea how dangerous the people in Shrankshaw were and no idea how they needed to be treated.

And when it came to dangerous people, Haggs reflected, Hackwrench had to be the worst. If the other Rangers were anywhere near as dangerous as Gadget, she needed this to come off without a hitch.

Taking Hackwrench by surprise and fighting her in the cell, where she had no room to move and Haggs could use all her size and strength against her, seemed the best strategy, but signs of a struggle might give the whole thing away and land Hags herself in a cell. True, Gadget had been in several fights over the past few days. There would be dozens of marks on her body and it would be easy to miss a few more, especially under her fur. Even so, it all came down to how easy Gadget was to subdue and Haggs was betting she would fight like an alley cat.

The white rat rubbed her bristly chin and considered slipping into the special wing to break open one of the medicine cabinets. She could steal a little bottle of pills that **really** meant it when it warned: Do Not Exceed Stated Dose, or a bottle of ether that could be poured through the cell door until Gadget passed out, or even one of those harmless looking vials of clear liquid that were nothing less than bottled death in the wrong hands.

Then a great smile split Haggs face wide open. She had it. All her previous misfortunes could be turned to her advantage. She basked in the warm glow of a truly brilliant idea.

Emboldened, Haggs left her hiding place and moved silently through the prison. She stopped to retrieve two of the large, strong refuse sacks the convict working parties were using to clear away the debris from the flood, then continued on her way to solitary confinement cells.

No one laid eyes on her. She knew the guard patrols like the back of her hand and Shrankshaw had no security cameras to spy on her.

Haggs arrived at the door of steel bars that led to the solitary wing and stopped dead. The lights were on. She could see plainly all the way to the chair that had been wedged under the handle of Hackwrench's cell door and on to the end of the corridor.

The lights were always off here, save when a guard needed them to see. The darkness was part of the punishment. The unexpected detail sent a shiver of paranoia through Officer Haggs' brain. She listened carefully. Nothing. She stepped into the shadows and waited. Minutes passed. Still nothing.

Finally, she relaxed. It was a security measure, nothing more. Someone had decided to keep the light on so that a guard could look in from the hallway and see that the chair was still in place at any time.

She reached out a paw for the door. Unconsciously, Haggs' paw was already patting the watch pocket of her uniform jacket, where she had kept the little silver key that could open any door in the prison.

Empty.

Haggs ground her teeth together. Bubbles McGee had stolen it.

No matter. She had come prepared. She had carefully switched the bunch of keys for the area she was supposed to be working in for the keys to this part of the prison when she started her shift. It was the major reason she had come in early.

Haggs unlocked the door and ventured into the corridor beyond. Earlier in the day she had made a point of checking and other cells were empty. Locked, as the rulebook said they had to be, but silent and empty.

She smiled for a moment at the unassailable simplicity of the chair jammed under the door handle then quietly removed it.

The key made the quietest of clinks when she slipped it into the lock and then, because she knew the door would make the same amount of noise no matter how carefully she turned the key, she snapped the lock open and threw open the door.

Gadget exploded from the cell on all fours in a blur of motion, her claws scrabbling against the smooth hard floor.

Part of Haggs had been prepared for the discovery that the cell was again empty; its resident decamped and already out of the prison, as impossible to cage as an evaporating puddle. Gadget gained a full second of surprise. A second would get her out of Haggs' reach. It was all she needed.

Then she ran into the chair.

Dazzled by the bright light in the corridor, she hit it headfirst, got tangled up in the legs and fell over with a clatter.

Gadget had seen the chair against the far wall when they put her in the cell and assumed it meant there would be a guard stationed in the corridor, until she heard them drag it under her cell door's handle after the door had closed. She had forgotten it existed when she heard the door being opened and known, with a chill, that only one person would be opening the door at this time of night.

Haggs turned, looked at Gadget, and calmly put her foot down on her tail.

Gadget felt the weight on her tail and rolled over onto her back to defend herself instead of trying to run.

Haggs pulled out the steel bolt she used as a nightstick and swung it with terrible force.

Gadget held up her hands, desperately trying to cover her face from the first of many crushing blows.

The nightstick connected with its target and swept the chair away with terrible force. The chair crashed down the corridor and came to a rest well beyond Gadget's reach.

Gadget had time to glance at it in confusion then Haggs' free hand grabbed at her prison jumpsuit and hauled her off the ground.

Somewhere between the ground and being slammed into the metal door of the cell, Gadget worked out that Haggs had hit the chair because it was the only weapon of opportunity Gadget could reach.

Haggs put the nightstick across Gadget's throat and lifted until Gadget's feet were clear of the floor.

"HURRAK!" Gadget choked and tried to get her hands onto the nightstick to push it away. Haggs was stronger and she was using her weight too. Gadget didn't need to do the math to know she wasn't going to win that way. She did it anyway, while she thinking about where she should kick Haggs.

Haggs was standing too close to kick with any power and the white rat was too solidly built for Gadget do much damage that way in any case, so Gadget sacrificed the kick in favour of bringing up her knee into Haggs' jaw.

Haggs grunted and stepped back, dropping Gadget.

Gadget curled up to protect her vital organs and forced herself to breathe. She needed to stall Haggs and she only had a second or two while Haggs took aim.

"Why?" She forced herself to rasp. "You know who I am now!"

Haggs found herself compelled to step back to get a good swing with the nightstick. "You know too much!"

Gadget gestured to her cell. "No one cared!"

Haggs threw back her head and gave a single, short bark of laughter. "After the damage you've done to my prison, did you think they would? They'd promote me if they only knew!"

Gadget coughed and tried to get up. Haggs grabbed her hair.

"They're probably all hoping someone will quietly kill you with a homemade knife." Haggs went on as she swung Gadget into the wall. "So they can bury their mistakes with you!"

Gadget yelped as her head hit the wall.

Haggs pulled back with the nightstick. Keeping a grip on Gadget and putting the nightstick to good use at the same time was proving difficult.

"Why risk the trouble?" Gadget gasped. "You don't need to get your hands dirty."

Haggs hit her in the back of the legs with nightstick.

Gadget yowled, certain her leg was broken, and dropped to the floor.

"They're dirty already from handling the scum that come through this place." As if to prove her point, Haggs spat on each paw in turn.

Gadget tried to crawl away.

Haggs put her foot down on Gadget's tail again. "Besides, I can't wait. As soon as you get in front of a judge it will be all about how I put Roxie up to trying to knife you and how I was beating your friend to get to her loot."

Haggs raised the nightstick to crush Gadget's skull.

"You'll never get away with it!" Gadget cried. "Bubbles isn't here to take the rap for you this time!"

"That worthless little hairball. I don't know why I bothered with her the first time! But you see –" Haggs leered " – that's the beauty of it. You've escaped from Shrankshaw once before and now you'll do it again. Only this time they'll never find you because they'll be looking for a live fugitive instead of dragging the sewers!"

BAM!

The noise of metal crashing like thunder made both Haggs and Gadget scream.

"THAT WILL BE QUITE ENOUGH!"

Warden Phelps was standing, impossibly, an arms length away behind Haggs. She had slammed the open cell door to get their attention. Haggs stared at her for a moment, wondering how Phelps had snuck up on her when the door to the solitary wing was in the other direction. Then she saw the other figures standing a little behind Haggs, someone official-looking wearing a suit and an old mole who looked like a police detective.

It was a trap.

They'd been waiting in the other cells, the ones further down the corridor. Even if she had checked the cells a second time on her way in, she would have stopped when she reached the one she wanted.

Haggs wanted to roar and lay into them with her nightstick. She had the size to make a go of it too, she was larger than any of them, but Phelps was glaring at her with such an air of outraged authority that Haggs' nerve broke.

She turned and ran towards the exit.

"STOP!" Phelps shouted.

Haggs ran faster. She was almost at the end of the corridor when Marion Cedar stepped into the doorway from outside blocking the way.

Even then Haggs didn't stop. It looked like she was going to charge into the deputy warden like an American football player making a tackle.

Ms. Cedar simply closed the door and turned the key.

Only then was Haggs forced to halt, finally realising that she had been stopped in her tracks for good.

Far behind her, Gadget was still lying on the cold concrete floor, sobbing quietly and holding her injured leg.

"Are you alright?" Phelps asked, kneeling beside her.

"I think she's broken my leg." Gadget said through the tears.

"Oh dear. There, there." The warden patted her ineffectually.

Lieutenant Talpidae knelt and gently but firmly removed Gadget's paws from the injured leg so he could examine it.

"Doesn't look too bad." He reported. "We'll have to get a doctor to take a look at it, though. I'm sorry we couldn't come out and stop her sooner, but we needed evidence that you broke out to save your life, not that she was beating prisoners."

"I know that." Gadget hissed through clenched teeth. "It was my idea, remember?"

Talpidae and Phelps exchanged rueful glances.

"Is there anything we can do?" Phelps asked.

"You can tell me it's all over." Gadget replied.

"It is." The warden promised her. "It's all over, Gadget."

"Yeah," Talpidae agreed sourly, "it's all over, all right. All over but the shouting."

244

Gadget was dressed in one of her own jumpsuits again, lavender blue instead of institutional grey. It was clean, comfortable and familiar but Gadget found herself thinking fondly of a white summer dress with a blue flower pattern at the back of her closet. She had bought it two summers ago and never gotten around to wearing it. She predicted that would change. There were fewer bright summer days spent locked away in a darkened workshop in her future, and rather more spent enjoying herself in the light.

At this precise moment, however, she was sitting in the chair in front of Lieutenant Talpidae's desk with a walking stick across her lap. She had made the walking stick herself by bending the point of a steel nail over into a crook-shape and, although it had been a very simple thing to do, she was quite pleased by the result.

Her doctor, good old reliable Doctor Fisk, not Lawhiney's Doctor Bell, had assured her that her leg was not broken. The injury was merely to the muscle and ligament where Haggs' blow had struck and, if she kept her weight off it for a couple of weeks, the leg should heal with no problems. Gadget had been struck by the curious turn of phrase, so similar to her own.

She was alone in the office, waiting for the mole to finish with his superiors and let her finally know, once and for all, where she stood with the law – wanted criminal or respected pillar of the community.

Talpidae entered, closed the door and pulled down the blind behind him. He took the file he was carrying over to his desk and opened it before sitting down. For a moment he seemed so preoccupied with the paperwork he might not have been aware Gadget was sitting in front of him.

"I don't want to intrude, but you're not going to keep me in suspense for long, I hope?" Gadget said through a strained smile.

Talpidae started. "Oh, excuse me! No, I'm not going to keep you in suspense – we're not going to keep you at all, in fact. You're free to go. Right now, if you want to. Our search team is done with the tree house so you can go home any time you like."

"Wow, just like that? It doesn't seem real!"

Gadget grinned from ear to ear and Talpidae allowed himself a smile, too.

"I suppose you want to know how everything worked out?" he said.

"OF COURSE! I mean, I'm sorry, but you're not going to make me ask, are you?"

Talpidae's smile gave way to a full-blown smirk. "I doubt I could sit on it any longer, anyway. Well, it all went down like this: When you walked in and made your statement, I called my captain, who called the chief, who called the Commissionaire.

"Now nobody is admitting it but, between the three of them, they decided that attack was the best form of defence. They cooked up a scheme to make the whole scandal bigger instead of smaller and keep it centred on you guys instead of on the show trial you got. All that blew up in their faces, so now they're back-peddling like crazy and hoping their charter won't get revoked by the city council."

"How come their plans blew up on them?" Gadget wondered with a slight frown. She knew what it felt like to have an idea blow up your face, literally in her case.

The mole leaned forward, resting his chin on his long, powerful fingers, which he pressed together like a church roof.

"I think you might already know." he said. "Seems a friend of yours hopped on a train to the next city where she walked into a newspaper office and spilled the whole story."

Gadget put a dainty finger to her lower lip as she thought the news over. "I really can't think who that might be. My first guess would Jennifer, but I didn't tell her about this. I spent a lot of yesterday locked in that cell kicking myself for that, because it's probably going to wreck our friendship what with her testifying at my trial and all."

Talpidae raised his eyebrows. "You want to press charges against her for perjury? Because the city prosecutor just might."

Gadget's face fell. "That's the last thing I want. She wasn't lying, just mistaken!" Gadget leaned forward in the chair and looked pleadingly at the old mole. "Lieutenant, she's the oldest friend I have and I don't want to lose her."

Talpidae looked sharply away. "It's your call, I guess, since you were the wounded party. Are you really telling me you can't guess who decided to give your side of the story to those newspaper boys?"

"No idea!" Gadget shrugged.

Talpidae pulled a report out from his folder of papers and looked it over. "She gave the name Irma Freemouse, but that's a fairly obvious alias. She was about your height and weight, brunet hair and light brown fur. Ring any bells?"

Gadget's eyes widened. "Bubbles!"

Talpidae nodded. "We think so. She claimed to be an insider who worked in Shrankshaw but forgot to mention it was as an inmate in the prison laundry. She took off after spilling the beans at three or four newspaper offices before anyone in authority made the connection between her and the wanted notice we posted on the escapees."

"She's still at large then?" Gadget asked hopefully.

Talpidae nodded and watched Gadget's obvious relief with some amusement, if also mild disapproval, before he went on to explain further. "The boys upstairs could call in a bunch of favours with the local newspaper boys, but they don't carry as much weight out of the city. Once those big, out of town newspapers had the story they gave it to their regional offices here. Some of them ran it and, well, some didn't, but it only took one for the story to reach the City Council."

Talpidae drew a lollypop from his desk draw and unwrapped it. "Getting onto the City Council is no small trick. Most of the people on it are pretty sharp. Seeing the story in print told them a lot, but not as much as seeing that it **wasn't** in the local rags. They've got friends of their own in the newspaper business, so it wasn't long before they found out who was keeping the story from them."

Gadget looked slightly worried. "Are your bosses in a lot of trouble?"

"Commissionaire Talloweye is claiming ignorance of the whole mess but Chief Gainsborough isn't backing him up. I think when this is all over Captain Sherwood might be the only one out of the three of them with a job, but a job doing what I wouldn't like to say."

Gadget shook her head. "I hate to think of good people losing their jobs over me."

"Take it from me, you aren't." Talpidae reassured her. "Getting to be Commissionaire or Chief in the Street Watch is no small trick either."

Gadget thought about that and decided to let it go. Like many things in her new life, it was more complicated than what she was used to. Instead, she asked: "Will you need me to give evidence against Officer Haggs?"

Talpidae shook his head. "Nah, we've struck it lucky there. People have been coming out of the woodwork to testify against her. Haggs mentioned someone called Roxie in her confession, you remember?"

Gadget nodded.

"Roxie came forward the moment she heard Haggs couldn't hurt her anymore. Couldn't wait to talk. From what she's been saying I'd say you've been luckier than you know, Ms. Hackwrench. Assuming you told us everything about what happened to you in Shrankshaw, that is." Talpidae looked at her carefully, weighing her reaction as only a policeman can.

Gadget returned the look with a steady gaze of her own. "Luckier than I know, perhaps, but not luckier than I can imagine. I've told you everything I can."

Talpidae looked away. "Roxie's offence wasn't so serious. She got left holding a bag for a guy she should have known was no good. She was guilty in law, but I'm not sure she deserves her punishment, even without Haggs. She'll have grounds for appeal if we ever find her guy and I don't think she'll object to testifying against him, either." Talpidae looked back at her with a twinkle. "Know any good detectives who could find the type of lowlife who would leave his girlfriend high and dry like that?"

Gadget allowed him a smile, but it was a troubled one. "I might know a detective who owes me a favour. Whether he'll be available is something I don't know yet."

Talpidae raised an eyebrow, but didn't answer directly. "Roxie isn't the only one who might get a second shot at things. We've reopened the cases of a few other people Haggs crossed paths with, including a prison guard who got five years for smuggling contraband. It's early days yet, but I wouldn't be surprised if the welcome home banner industry did well out of this."

"I wouldn't be surprised at all." Gadget agreed grimly. "How long ago was the guard convicted?"

"Four years." Talpidae said unhappily.

"That could have been me." Gadget reflected.

"It could." Agreed Talpidae. It no longer seemed unbelievable to either of them.

"Is there going to be any other fallout from all of this?" Gadget asked after a moment of silent reflection.

Talpidae flipped through his folder as if checking. "A certain judge is taking early retirement in order to spend more time with his golf clubs. There's some shifting around going on behind the scenes in the offices of the prosecutors and defenders. New broom type of thinking."

Gadget nodded.

Talpidae crunched what was left of his lollypop. "Warden Phelps tells me that Shrankshaw is being shut down permanently. She's not downhearted about it. Apparently the whole place had been on the verge of falling to bits for years, but the Corrections Department wouldn't modernise or replace a whole facility while it was still boarder-line. They're going to have to find room for a lot of convicts and, since they can't raise the budget for another Shrankshaw at short notice, they're going to have to go with the honours system. A lot of old timers and short timers will probably get early parole or even release."

Talpidae looked sideways at her as he put the lollypop stick in the wastepaper bin. "That's the major stuff anyway. Did I miss anything?"

Gadget took a deep breath and broached a painful subject. "The… people who escaped with me. What's going to happen to them?"

Talpidae nodded. He'd expected this. "Well, since we've got good evidence that Haggs would have killed you if you hadn't broken out, you have no case to answer relating to the escape itself. That's why we went through that business of sending you back to Shrankshaw. Haggs wouldn't have been any gentler with the witnesses, so it would be tough for a prosecutor to make a charge stick against the others. That means they won't see any extra time for breaking out.

"Of course, they're still wanted fugitives but what with pretty much anyone in responsible for your stay in Shrankshaw trying to sweep the whole business and anything connected with it under the rug, no one is really looking for them. The original sentences still stand, though."

There was silence as Gadget digested this. "You said all the original sentences still stand. Does that include my sentence?"

"Oh no!" Talpidae held up his hands as though Gadget were about to flee from the office. "Your lawyer has been busy. He was in front of a judge yesterday morning before the newspaper story had made much impact. The judge granted the appeal and then, when the story blew up and the City Council started jumping all over people, they held an emergency session that evening. The prosecutor said they weren't contesting the case. Technically, you were free to go four hours before Haggs came to your cell.

"Of course –" Talpidae looked at her steadily "—with your friends it's a different story."

Gadget listened attentively.

"Now, as I said, no one is really looking that hard for them but if they should come to light, it's back to the slammer they go. Along with anyone found aiding or harbouring them."

Talpidae gave her a single long hard look. "I trust we understand each other Ms. Hackwrench?"

"Perfectly." A poker-faced Gadget answered.

Talpidae looked away. "Good. I'd hate for Doyle to have to arrest you twice."

Gadget coughed and looked a little embarrassed. "Speaking of Doyle, my half-sister is coming in later today to confess to all the crimes she committed while she was impersonating me. I saw Doyle earlier and asked him to handle it because I know he does things by the book. That way I won't have to worry about her being treated the way I was. I hope that's okay with you?"

Moles are said to be blind but Gadget knew better and gave him the big blue eyes anyway.

The old mole grunted. "You may not have done her any favours. Doyle can be pretty tough when he wants to be. He got that confession out of Chip, remember?"

Gadget grimaced. "Golly, you know what? I **had** forgotten! Where is Chip?"

"Still down in the cells!" Talpidae told her.

"Oh je – I mean, jeepers!" Gadget used her walking stick to help her stand. "I'm going to have to do something about that!"

"Settle down." Talpidae gestured for her to sit. "Dale gave us a full statement exonerating him, all we've got on Chip is making a false confession. He should have been released yesterday, except Sherwood ordered me hold Chip for trail and now he's too busy to take my calls and say different." He took a piece of paper from the file in front of him and pushed it across the desk to her.

"I'd like for you to look this over." he said. "It's the statement Chip made."

Gadget blushed as she read the paper. By the time she put it down, she was nearly crimson under her fur. "I don't know what you must think of me."

"You?" Talpidae laughed. "That confession's false. Remember? It could be there isn't a single true word in it but some parts are pretty convincing. Like the part about how both Chip and his best friend are crazy about you and he just can't find a way to tell you how he feels."

Gadget smiled through her teeth. "He made a pretty good job of it here."

Talpidae chuckled benignly. "Since it's no longer evidence in any investigation, no one is going to care if it gets shredded, which is what I intend to do with it. I think you should know that he only gave us this because Doyle told him that there was no proof he had ever loved you and that we were down to two suspects in this case -- you and him – so I'd say that if this piece of paper is proof of anything, it's proof he loves you."

"After that, I almost hate to give it back so you can shred it." Gadget said a little sadly.

"You want to hang on to it?"

"No." Gadget said returning the confession. "I appreciate the fatherly tone, Lieutenant, but I'm not comfortable talking about this, if you don't mind."

Talpidae looked at her understandingly and shrugged. "Do you mind if I ask what you're going to do now all this is over?"

"The Rescue Rangers can get along without me for a while – and that goes for Chip, too, once someone figures out a way to explain all this to him!" Gadget spread her arms wide. "I just got my freedom back!"

Talpidae blinked at her in surprise.

"When you lose something you've taken for granted," Gadget explained, "you suddenly realise how much it's worth. If you get it back, you don't treat it the same way. I lost my freedom, so now I'm going to take a holiday and walk in the long grass while the days are still warm. I'm going to gossip with friends I haven't seen in a long time, drink coco with marshmallows and visit museums and generally enjoy myself."

"You've certainly earned a vacation." The mole conceded. "Before you go, there's just one thing I don't understand."

"Oh? What's that, Lieutenant?"

"How is it Chip never realised it was your sister impersonating you all this time?"

Gadget looked away uncomfortably. "Nobody else saw through her either."

"Chip's a detective. It was no one else's job."

Gadget threw up her hands in frustration. "Chip's a good detective when he's working on a case but he can't be a detective twenty-four hours a day. He doesn't look for crimes to solve when he's around the house! If he did, he would be unbearable to live with!"

Talpidae looked sideways at her and took a chance he knew he probably wasn't entitled to take. "I guess he's a lucky guy. I imagine if you really were in love with him, the way he hoped, you'd have a hard time forgiving him for mixing you up with some other blonde."

Gadget glared at him.

Talpidae pretended not to notice. Instead he occupied himself with one of the forms on his desk.

Finally, Gadget groaned and buried her face in her hands.

"Lieutenant," She said finally, trusting her weight to the walking stick again, "do you suppose it would break any rules if I visited one of the prisoners you have down in the cells?"

245

Chip Maplewood was sitting on the uncomfortably thin mattress of his prison issue cot. Somewhere he could hear water dripping, but the light was too dingy to see very far beyond his own cell. The Sweepers had been short of cells and they couldn't put him in with other prisoners for fear something might happen to their prize catch, so he had found himself in a small re-purposed hamster cage for the past couple of days.

It had gradually sunk in that he hadn't fallen asleep reading one of his crime novels and found himself trapped in some unlikely nightmare, that this was for real and his life as he knew it had vanished forever. He thought of the detective who interviewed him and wondered how he would have handled things in his place. Privately, Chip doubted he could have gotten such quick results himself. It was small comfort that they were the wrong results.

By rights, solving the case should have been his only thought. He'd had nothing to do in this cell but think for hours on end and yet the only thing he could think about was how his life seemed to have suddenly, inexplicably fallen apart.

No one would talk to him.

The disgust and hostility the guards had barely tried to conceal during the first few hours had faded and, by the evening of his first full day in captivity, it had been completely replaced by wary curiosity. Chip couldn't know that this coincided with Gadget's first visit to the Sweeper precinct. He was at a loss as to why everyone was now even more anxious to avoid talking to him.

"It's almost as if they've found a stack of bodies piled up in my basement." He grumbled quietly when he was certain no one could hear him.

The sound of a heavy metal door opening brought him to his feet.

Gadget entered, leaning heavily on a walking stick. When Chip saw her, his heart felt heavier than any cell door. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly.

Gadget looked back at the custody officer who stood silhouetted in the doorway.

"Thank you." She said. "Could we have some privacy?"

"Sure yer can!" The sergeant returned jovially. "Just you be sure to give us a call if this dangerous character gives you any trouble!"

Chip did a double take at the sergeant's retreating back. It had almost sounded like he was joking. For a split second he contemplated the possibility that this was Dale's most elaborate practical joke ever, then the false hope fizzled.

Gadget walked over to the front of Chip's cage and looked at him. Her expression was much like that of a small child visiting a zoo and seeing some creature that she had been told existed, but hadn't believed in.

Chip couldn't stop himself. He ran over to the bars and grasped them tightly, as though they were the only things holding him up.

"Gadget!" Chip choked. "You shouldn't have come."

Gadget looked at him sadly. "Oh, Chip!" She sighed sadly. "Why did you do it?"

"Not you too!" Chip yelped. "Gadget, you can't believe that I did this to Dale!"

Gadget looked chagrined. "I meant confess!"

"Confess?" Chip felt like laughing wildly. "I already confessed. I – Gadget, I had to! They caught me hauling the rubbish sack out of your workshop like Monty asked me. Dale was inside it; they had me red-handed! They kept on at me all night and day; trying to get me say I did it. Finally they told me that if I wouldn't confess, they'd pin the whole thing on you because it happened in your workshop!"

Gadget looked at him steadily and sadly. "And that's why you told them you did it?"

"I had to! Gadget, you don't know what it's like in here! It's terrible! Treated like an animal and nothing to do all day but think about everything you've lost! I couldn't let that happen to you, Gadget. Not to you." Chip shook his head. The chipmunk was beside himself, fighting to control his tears.

"Oh, Chip." Gadget repeated.

Chip sank on to the edge of his cot, exhausted by his outburst. "You should go Gadget. There's nothing you can do for me."

Gadget reached out silently and put her hand through the bars in the hope that he would take it. "Chip, you like to think you're a good detective, right?"

"I'm a great detective." Chip answered sullenly without looking up.

Gadget resisted the urge to kick something, preferably chipmunk. "Who do you think actually knocked out Dale and hid him in that trash sack?"

Chip sighed heavily. "I've tried to work it out. I've had nothing to do but think in here, but I can't concentrate. All I can think of is what's coming, the trial, the disgrace and then – years of torment."

"You poor thing." Gadget felt her anger evaporate. "I know how you feel."

Chip almost laughed. Instead he chose to sigh deeply again and shake his head. "No, Gadget. I don't think you do and I don't think you can. You're too innocent to imagine how this feels."

Gadget began tapping her foot impatiently. If Chip didn't stop feeling sorry for himself soon, she would have to go to plan B. Plan B involved springing the lock on the door and entering the cell to beat the chipmunk soundly about the head with her walking stick.

"Chip, I'm not as innocent as you seem to think. I'm an adult and a Rescue Ranger, the same as you are." She told him sternly.

It was a haunted Chip who looked up at her.

_I do believe he thinks I'm about to confess to attempting to kill Dale_, Gadget thought. She replayed the conversation so far in her head and suddenly realised that, from his point of view, it wasn't so far fetched. She knelt down by the bars so she could be on the same level as him.

"Chip," she asked, "as a friend, not a detective, what do you think happened in that tree-house the night before last?"

Chip blinked. It had never occurred to him to think this through as an individual instead of as a professional.

"I know someone hit Dale like they were trying to really hurt him, not just a little, but really hurt him. I know it wasn't me and I don't believe it was Monty because I spoke to him. It couldn't have been Zipper and that leaves you." He sniffed like a small boy who had finished crying. "But you don't have it in you to really hurt someone, Gadget. You're too gentle and you love… everyone, I guess."

Gadget smiled and nodded. "Go on, Chip."

Chip shook his head. "Dale wouldn't just let a stranger hurt him like that. He's not that stupid and he's certainly no coward. It was someone who looked like they belonged in the house."

"Who, Chip? Who looks like they belong in our house, but doesn't?"

The answer was obvious. Chip sat up. One by one the pieces flew into place for him and the picture they formed made his fur stood on end like there was an electric charge building up. His eyes focused at a point far off in space and saw something only he could see.

"No." he said.

Gadget smiled softly.

Chip's eyes darted towards her.

The air grew thick with silence.

Gadget nodded ever so slightly.

Chip stood, looking at her as though he did not trust his eyes.

Gadget used her walking stick to stand and reached through the bars a second time. Surely this time he would take her hand?

Chip took an unsteady step towards her, followed by another and another, until he almost fell against the bars. Gadget couldn't know it, but to him the whole world seemed to be tilted at an unlikely angle.

Their noses were almost touching through the bars when Chip's paw closed about Gadget's arm, his grip firm enough to make her drop the walking stick.

Gadget blinked in confusion. Chip's eyes were like glass. She was staring into them, trying to find her friend in there, but he wasn't home. Then she felt Chip's other paw at her neck – not at her throat but close. The grip did not hurt, but it was too heavy to remove.

A strange, surreal terror overcame her.

Chip thought she was Lawhiney.

246

Chip stared into the eyes of the girl in front of him. They were blue and bright but there was a razor's edge of hurt in them that he had never seen before.

His inner detective screamed and railed at him like a wild beast suddenly caged. Chip consigned the cage to the darkest recesses of his heart and looked again.

Her breath was on his face. He was suddenly aware that his own breath was deep and rasping and out of control.

He had loved Gadget Hackwrench for years, even if he had taken every pain to avoid even whispering the word. Now he might be looking her right in the eyes, but he didn't recognise her.

Deeper in her eyes, he saw his own reflection. He didn't recognise himself, either.

He didn't know who he was any more. How could he be expected to know who anyone else was?

"Chip?" she whispered again.

Suddenly numb, Chip let his paws go slack.

"Chip, for a moment there, I thought you were going to strangle me."

With a haunted expression, Chip looked back at the stranger in front of him. In her face he saw nothing but concern and generosity of spirit.

Suddenly Gadget was standing in front of him.

The thought of what he had almost done sent a shudder up his spine.

Chip sank to his knees like a medieval knight before a queen. He knew nothing now, save that Gadget could never look at him again. Then he felt her paw gently stroking the fur on his cheek, looked up into her eyes and realised that he knew nothing at all.

"It's okay, Chip." She told him gently. "We can go home now."

"Dale?" Chip choked.

"Dale's fine, Chip!" Gadget beamed. "He woke up and explained everything to the Sweepers, well, maybe not everything, because let's face it, Dale's hardly qualified to explain everything, but he explained what happened to him and that's the important thing in this instance, wouldn't you agree? That didn't sound like I was suggesting I'm qualified to explain everything, did it? Because I'm certainly not qualified to explain everything, though I'm probably better qualified than Dale and at the speed I talk it certainly wouldn't take as long, would it?"

"Dale's fine." Chip repeated. That and the fact that Gadget was talking like her old self were about the only things he'd extracted from the torrent of Gadget babble.

"Dale's fine and I'm fine and Monty's fine and Zipper's fine and, assuming Lawhiney hasn't tried Monty's patience to its breaking point which is quite likely given that she almost drove me to murder, even the she's fine, although she's probably not looking forward to the next fifteen years or so and frankly, I don't blame her." Gadget agreed amiably.

Chip nodded, massaging his temples. Somewhere in the distant future he would probably be fine too.

"Your leg?" He asked.

"Oh, Chip, how sweet of you to ask. I'll be fine. I was trapping a crook last night, one who made sorting all this out a lot harder than it had to be, though she's certainly going to pay for it now. She got a couple of good shots in before we managed to bring her in."

Chip nodded and struggled to catch his breath. The cell was beginning to feel safe and comforting. He wondered if they would let him stay there for a while.

"Are you okay, Chip?" Gadget looked at him expectantly. "Because Monty and Zipper are going to give me a ride over to visit Dale in a few moments and it only makes sense for you to come along with us since he's been missing you."

"Yes. I'm fine." But he wasn't and he wouldn't be until he knew one final thing for certain. He looked up at her. "Gadget?"

"Yes, Chip?"

"Where were you?"

Gadget looked at him, then stretched out a paw and stroked his face gently.

"Away, Chip. When the rest of the boys are together, we'll sit down together and I'll tell you about it." Or as much of it as I think a bunch of boys should hear about the inside of a female prison, Gadget added in the privacy of her own head.

She turned away to get the custody sergeant to open the cell.

"Gadget?" Chip sounded plaintively behind her.

She turned back. "Yes, Chip?"

"You won't go away again, will you?" He sounded like a small boy.

She blinked at him, feeling the weight of being responsible for someone else's heart for the first time.

"Not if I can help it." She said, after a pause, and left the room.

247

Since Chip had been in the act of leaving town when he had been arrested, reclaiming his property took some time. The custody sergeant dutifully counted off every little thing from Chip's pockets and suitcase. When the sergeant reached the more personal items, Chip suggested that Gadget wait for him in the lobby and, rather than take the opportunity to suggest improvements to Chip's cold weather combinations, Gadget agreed.

The sweeper lobby was a well-lit airy room with a dozen exits and entrances but only one set of doors interested Gadget. The wide double doors below an elegant window, which to ill-informed human eyes looked like a ventilation grill; doors that led to freedom.

It almost seemed too good to be true. For a moment she felt giddy and wanted to dance for glee. She settled for taking a moment to enjoy the sight of the pair of doors that led to freedom and the rest of her life.

Before she could move, a familiar voice boomed through the doors.

"I swear, if you weren't in the family way, my girl, I'd reform you in nothing flat! The old fashioned way!"

"Oh yeah? Well – It's lucky I am, then!" An irate, unladylike voice responded.

Gadget sighed. It had been too good to last.

Lawhiney entered first, more eagerly than Gadget would have expected, even if it were as someone running away from an argument rather than someone come to turn themselves in. Monty followed, his moustache bristling, shaking a finger at Lawhiney's retreating back. Neither of them paid the slightest notice to Zipper, or thanked him for holding the door open.

"Now just you listen to me, you young she-devil!"

Lawhiney, satisfied that the presence of witnesses would forestall any violence, kept her back to Monty and took the opportunity to adjust her hair and check her makeup in a compact mirror.

"I've had it up to here with your tall tales and wild stories!" Monty yelled at her.

Lawhiney gawked over her shoulder at him in disbelief.

Monty crossed his arms and scowled at her furiously. "Have you got something to say, young lady?"

Lawhiney closed the compact with a click as ominous as any gun being cocked. "Well…" she began, "Now that you mention it, I suppose I really should apologize…"

Monty tweaked the end of his moustache between forefinger and thumb.

"Now that's more like it!" he said with a self-satisfied smile.

"I'm sorry for muscling in on your act! I should have known the Rangers only had room for one lying blowhard!" Lawhiney yelled in his face.

Monty's face fell into a sour, I-should-have-known-it, expression that could have given a lemon a run for its money.

"She's got a point, Monty." Gadget said from directly behind Lawhiney's right ear.

Lawhiney flinched at the sound of her sister's voice. She was painfully aware that she hadn't been behaving herself recently.

Monty's jaw dropped. "Gadget! Say you don't mean it, luv!"

Gadget dropped an eyelid in a low conspiratorial wink to Monty. "I'd say it," she replied, "but that would sour the memory of hearing my sister admit she's a lying blowhard!"

"Well, I was here first!" Monty said decisively. "The position is taken!"

Lawhiney pursed her lips and wrinkled her nose prettily at Gadget.

"Ooh, just you wait until – well, until I get out of prison, I guess." She sighed heavily. "I guess little Roche will be a teenager by then."

"Humph." Monty looked a little ashamed.

Lawhiney took out a hanky in preparation for the tears she was about to shed, hopefully on cue, and turned to Gadget. "Oh sister, isn't there another way? A way that would let me share my child's life?"

Gadget looked her right in the eye. "Was that Jen's compact mirror I saw you using just now?"

Lawhiney looked thoroughly derailed. "Uh, she gave it to me. So I could look good for the trial."

And then a curious thing happened.

For a moment Lawhiney looked as though someone had put a live flea in her ear. She winced and tried to clear it with a pinkie.

"Uh, you'd be surprised the effect a little lipstick and No. 5 blush will have on the right jury members…" she said as if in passing commentary on the state of the justice system.

Then she squeaked.

If Gadget hadn't known better, she would have been prepared to swear someone had pulled on Lawhiney's tail.

Sheepishly, with one paw massaging the base of her tail, Lawhiney surrendered the compact to Gadget. "On second thoughts, would you mind returning this to Jen, with my thanks? It's just I've decided to go with the plain and natural look, instead."

Gadget accepted the compact.

"Very plain, if the stress of prison does to me what it's done for you." Lawhiney muttered in a voice she was fairly sure Monty couldn't hear. He just might make good on his threat to turn her over his knee, witnesses or not, if she went too far.

"What was that?" Mount Monterey threatened to erupt.

"Oh, I was just saying how I need another way to get the jury's sympathies; just my luck that I'm finally recovered. Although I could have a relapse… did you bring this for little old me?"

And with that Lawhiney snatched Gadget's steel walking stick away from her and began to practice hobbling in small circles.

Gadget winced. She could stand without the stick for a little while, but preferred not to.

Monty caught sight of Gadget's expression and rumbled again. "Lawhiney, it ain't nice to take other people's things if they ain't offered."

Lawhiney looked back at him with big eyes. "Aw, c'mon Monty. I only just had a cast taken off my leg."

"The doc said you're all better now and goldbricking ain't going to help you get out of this mess of trouble you've cooked up for yourself." Monty's tough exterior was cracking.

"I'm going to be an old lady when they let me out." Lawhiney grumbled and hung her head. "I liked it better when you thought I was Gadget. You were the one I would have told, if it hadn't been for little Roche. I almost did you know. "

Monty twitched his moustache and shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Now, don't be making your little one into an excuse. He didn't have a say in your decisions, so it's wrong to ask him to carry the weight of them. You owe him that."

Lawhiney looked up with tears in her eyes. "I – I know, Monty. I'll try and be good. For Roche."

Monty coughed to cover his expression. "This better not be another of your tricks."

"It isn't." she promised.

"I'm glad." Gadget said. "Would you give me a hug, Lawhiney? I could use one right now."

"You mean I look like I could use one, you incorrigible do-gooder, you." Lawhiney smiled, blinked away her tears, and hugged her sister like it was the only hug in the world.

For them, it might be. Lawhiney would be a long time paying her debts and Gadget worked in a dangerous profession.

When they were done, Lawhiney began wiping her tears away with the hanky.

"When I took this out, I only expected it to wipe away fake tears." She sniffed. "What about you, Monty? Can I get a hug from you too?"

Monty looked away uncomfortably. "Well, I suppose. Seeing as it might be a long time before I can hug you as an honest citizen, I figure it won't hurt to give you one on credit, so to speak."

With that, Monty reached down, picked up Lawhiney and gave her one of his gentlest bear hugs.

Lawhiney hugged him back fiercely. "Is that the best you can do, you big teddy bear?"

"You might not break, but the little fella you're carrying might be a tad more fragile." Monty rumbled in a deep, gentle voice.

Gadget watched them and smiled. Lawhiney, to her mind, could have used more innocent hugs in her life. She had been looking forward to a hug from Monty herself, but she didn't mind her sister getting hers in first.

A prickle between her shoulder blades told her they were being watched. She carefully composed her expression and turned, expecting to see a detective ready to take Lawhiney into custody. Wrong detective.

Chip was standing in the doorway from the cells, his eyes staring but his expression blank. Monty saw him too and gently put Lawhiney down.

Lawhiney patted down her hair, turned and locked eyes with Chip.

Chip broke the eye contact first. He put his head down and began to stride towards the happy little group. When he reached them, he stopped exactly halfway between Lawhiney and Gadget. He looked at neither of them.

Gadget and her sister exchanged glances. Silently, a mutual agreement was struck.

"Golly, Chip, you certainly took your time! I was just explaining to Monty how good it was to see him and how I was looking forward to giving all three of you a big hug when we get home. I've missed you all so much!" The blonde mouse blinked happily at Chip, then seemed distracted by another thought. "I sure hope all my tools are where I left them. My paws are itching to get busy!" She frowned suddenly as another thought struck her. "Or maybe I'm just allergic to the base metal in my walking stick!"

"Well, I guess I should have known I could fool everyone but her." The mirror image standing next to her said. "Still, you have to admit I pulled the wool over your eyes, Mister Detective."

"Is that so?" Chip said in tight whisper.

She took a tantalising step towards him with a wicked smile, batting her eyelids seductively. "How about I give you a kiss to remember what might have been, if no one had gotten wise?"

Chip looked at her, his expression too deep to read. He took a step towards her, so that they were close enough to feel each other's breath. His eyes went to the innocent looking sister next to her as though asking for permission and saw a look of shock cross her innocent expression.

"Chip?" she said in a hurt tone. "You wouldn't? Not in front of –"

"Nice try." Chip said. "Lawhiney."

And before anyone could tell him whether he was right or wrong, or his nerve could fail, Chip locked lips with the blonde mouse in front of him. He took her up on everything she had offered and only let put her down after that first deep kiss because there were strangers watching.

"Jeepers!" the mouse in his arms said breathily. She was blushing like a bride on her wedding morning.

Chip grinned savagely. "Now that's Gadget."

Monty folded his arms and suppressed a smile. "After all this trouble, I'd have thought you two would have had enough of being mistaken for one and other, without playing pranks on Chip."

"Ah, it's okay, Monty. Gadget was just... testing." He smiled sheepishly.

Lawhiney twirled Gadget's steel walking stick and shrugged. "Can't think why he didn't try that method of telling us apart months ago."

"I would have, only I thought you'd already been put safely out of the way." Chip growled at her.

Gently but firmly, Gadget took his face in her hand and turned it back towards her. "Hey, that's my sister you're talking to."

"Sister?" Chip looked from Gadget to Lawhiney and back again.

"You have a lot of catching up to do, mister." Gadget told him firmly. "But it can wait until everyone's together again, that way I only have to explain it once."

Monty coughed politely behind her. "I think somebody's waiting on us, Gadget, luv."

Gadget followed his eyes over to where Doyle was standing with a hangdog look on his face. The detective held up a paw and beckoned with a finger, like a schoolteacher to a naughty child.

"Well, I guess that's my cue." Lawhiney said nervously. "Is my lawyer here?" She asked, passing the walking stick back to Gadget.

"I, uh, arrived with him. He's been waiting in the interview room for you." Gadget shyly admitted as she accepted the stick.

"No wonder Doyle has that expression." Chip sympathised.

"Well, don't wait up." Lawhiney said and began to tip toe her way towards Doyle in a babyish walk, her hands clasped behind her back.

"There goes one Sheila who can look after herself." Monty said.

"You said it." Chip agreed.

"Strike a light, Gadget! I almost forgot." Monty exclaimed. "Jen decided to come with us and the poor girl's sitting out there all alone in the Ranger-skate. She's feeling real rotten about herself for letting you down, Gadget."

Gadget finally let go of Chip. "I'll go have a word with her." She promised.

"We'll give you a minute or two and follow you out." Monty nodded.

Gadget made a start, got halfway to the door and then looked back at Chip with a puzzled expression. "Hey, Chip you did know it was me offering to kiss you, right? You wouldn't have really kissed Lawhiney?"

Chip smiled at her. "I knew, Gadget. I looked into your eyes and I just knew."

Gadget suppressed a smile and left. There would be a later for that chipmunk.

"It's a good thing they forgot you were standing behind them. Thanks for pointing the real Gadget out, Monty." Chip said when he was sure she was out of earshot.

"Figured you were in deep enough in trouble as it was, Chipper." Monty said dourly. "You're just going to have to learn to tell them apart, my lad."

"You mean there's a way to do that?" Chip asked as they began to amble towards the exit.

"Chip lad, you're supposed to be a detective, it should be obvious! Lawhiney limps with her left leg. Gadget limps with her right." Monty chided him. "Until they get better, any rate."

"What do I do then?" Chip asked as they reached the door.

"Then you're on your own."


	34. Epilogue: Gadget Unchained

**Gadget in Chains**

_**Disclaimer**_

In recent times the proliferation of a certain kind of lawyer has made copyright disclaimers necessary on most, if not all, fan produced material that relates to any kind of character that someone, somewhere, might possibly have thought of before. As anyone likely to ever read this story will know, almost all the main characters in this story (in particular, the cast of Chip and Dale's Rescue Rangers and Basil the Great Mouse Detective) have definitely been thought of before, copyrighted, and used in various television and cinema productions that are owned by the Walt Disney Company. The author makes no claim to have any rights of any kind to these characters and is not making any money from the creation or distribution of this story, in whole or in part (I should be so lucky). Readers may copy and distribute but not make money from this story and are asked not to alter the content (like I could find you and stop you if you did). Just in case all that's not enough, I should point out that suing me would be highly unprofitable for anyone… except a certain kind of lawyer.

**Epilogue**

**Gadget Unchained**

248

The Sweepers had searched the tree house thoroughly and left an equally thorough mess behind them that took days to straighten out. The only exception, ironically enough, was Gadget's workshop, the scene of the crime itself. The search of that area had been greatly delayed while the Sweepers waited for two experts in mechanical devices.

One was a mechanic from the local toy store. The other was a much-vaunted expert who worked as a consultant for the Rescue Aid Society but proved difficult to contact. The Sweepers eventually gave up on waiting for this expert entirely, after the RAS finally admitted that the expert in question was none other than Gadget herself.

In the end, the Sweepers had settled for sending in the mechanic to make sure no one touched anything dangerous, while their searchers tiptoed around the room looking for clues. They had no way to tell that Gadget had gotten there first and they found nothing except Gadget's favourite wrench with a little blood and some chipmunk hairs on it. They had taken it away with them.

Gadget eventually decided not to ask for it back. It was a wrench, well, her favourite one actually, but it had almost killed Dale and to bring it back into the house was to tempt fate. Not that she was superstitious or anything.

Dale complained that several of his comic books were missing. Chip, exercising newfound restraint, told Dale that they were just misplaced and they would turn up all the sooner if Dale worked on straightening the place up. Gadget, however, held her peace and wondered.

No one else mentioned missing any property, though Chip looked particularly put out when he finished tidying his study and Monty was heard to voice the opinion that being searched by the police felt a lot like being burglarised.

It had been very different from the homecoming party Gadget had envisaged; the party that Lawhiney had, in fact, got. She went to bed after a simple, subdued meal with the others, curled up in her own bed sheets for the first time in far too long, and slept the sleep of the just.

Life being what it was, that was not quite the end of it.

The next morning Gadget woke late.

Lawhiney had clearly preferred a regular lay in, or perhaps simply hadn't been able to work out how to wind Gadget's alarm clock; a creation of Gadget's own devising that had been modified twice to bring it in line with what the residents considered acceptable noise pollution. The second modification had left a pair of Monty's winter socks over the bells, like rabbit ears.

Gadget showered and dressed sleepily. She was about to go and get breakfast when she caught sight of herself in the mirror and stopped. The lavender dye of the jumpsuit had probably just faded in the laundry but, for a moment, when Gadget looked into the mirror, she could have sworn it was the grim grey Shrankshaw issue uniform she had worn for months.

Two minutes later the jumpsuit was in an untidy heap on the floor and Gadget was admiring herself in the mirror. She was wearing the blue and white summer dress she had thought fondly of in Talpidae's office. She added a dash of lipstick and a smile and went hunting chipmunk.

On her way to the kitchen, she heard a knock on the front door. It was the postman.

"Morning, Gadget." The thin grey haired vole behaved as though she had never been away, handed her a letter addressed by her own familiar handwriting, tipped his hat, and went his way without a backward glance.

"Morning." Gadget said to his retreating back, when she had finished staring at the letter.

She took the desperate letter she had written in Shrankshaw prison with her to the kitchen, searching for breakfast rather than chipmunk. Strictly speaking, it was addressed to Monty but she could see no point in giving it to him now when she no longer needed rescue. It had only been three days since she mailed it, but it felt like a year had passed.

It was, she thought, just like a holiday where you went away and came back before the postcards you had sent your friends arrived.

"**SURPRISE!**"

Gadget leaped a clear inch into the air.

There, completely unexpected, just when she had given up all hope, was her long awaited welcome home party.

"Aw, you guys!" She complained as someone crowned her with a party hat. "You didn't have to do this!"

"Like you'd have forgiven us if we hadn't!" Dale laughed at her.

"We got you a cheesecake." Monty said. "A little too sweet for my taste and I'm not sure that ricotta stuff really counts as cheese, I must say."

"Which is the only reason it's still on the table." Chip pointed out.

"You're so funny, Chipper!" Tammy laughed.

It was a smaller party than the one Lawhiney had received, but enough friends were there to make the kitchen look crowded. Tammy, her mother, Jennifer, Buzz and Sparky and the Rangers clapped and cheered as Gadget cut the cake.

"My favourite! Strawberry!" Gadget grinned as she took the first bite.

249

Two months later Shrankshaw prison still hadn't been shut down. The corrections department swore that this was due only to dire necessity and perhaps it was true. More prisoners had been paroled and granted release in the last two months than in the previous two years.

Privately, Warden Phelps suspected that this was because without any working industries inside Shrankshaw, the prison was making a dead loss instead of breaking even as it was supposed to. Every inmate unnecessarily confined represented an additional expense. She was also beginning to doubt that the board would ever really close the place down. They were stalling, hoping that things would blow over and they could slap down new paint and new linoleum to cover up the crumbling substance of the building and carry on as normal. Phelps knew she should do something but the day-to-day problems of running the prison kept her too busy to consider just what.

Such a problem was before her now. The hallways were reverberating to the chants and cries of the locked-down inmates. Phelps covered her ears and hurried through the corridors to join her deputy.

"HAGGS! HAGGS! HAGGS!" The chants echoed in her head as much as they did in the prison.

Phelps was almost relieved to enter the solitary wing and close the door behind her, muffling, if not completely shutting out the noise.

"Haggs! Haggs! Haggs!"

Marion Cedar was standing at the door to a cell, halfway along the corridor. Phelps joined her and listened to the racket from within for a minute before venturing to comment.

Finally she shook her head sadly. "And she's been like this all night?"

"I'm afraid so." Marion Cedar confirmed.

The heavy cell door thundered under the fists of the inmate behind it.

"I'll try speaking to her." Phelps said, reluctantly.

With some wariness, Phelps reached forward and unlocked the metal shutter that covered the window. From inside the darkness of the cell, a pair of red eyes glowed at her like embers.

"Just what do you imagine this is going to achieve?" Phelps demanded in her best warden voice.

The white-furred muzzle of Margo Haggs poked out of the window. "I want everyone to know, I won't be cowed! I'm not some timid little lamb locked in amongst the wolves!"

"You aren't exactly locked in with a group of schoolgirls, either." The warden retorted. "You might be better off if they didn't know you were locked up with them at all."

"I'm not locked up with them." Haggs snarled. "They're locked up with me."

Phelps looked at her sternly. "You certainly won't make life easy for yourself by talking tough and acting like you're something special."

"You think so? But then you've never really understood the prisoners, have you? Not like I do. You see, strength is what they really understand. It's what they respect. It's what it takes to make it in their world and I have always been so very strong, much stronger than you or your pathetic system." Haggs tilted her head, as though trying to work out whether the story she had spun was pleasing, even to her own ears. "They're chanting my name, aren't they?"

The voices of the inmates could still be heard, even here with the door closed.

"Haggs! Haggs! Haggs!"

"I don't think they mean it in a good way!" Marion Cedar exclaimed.

"I wouldn't be too sure." Phelps replied sadly.

"Oh, there'll be challengers, pretenders to the throne, old enemies with scores to settle but once I've – ah ha-ha – dealt with them, everyone will know what I've always known." Haggs tone left no room for misunderstanding about just how she would deal with her enemies.

"And just what is that?" Phelps enquired.

"That this is MY prison." Haggs replied triumphantly.

Phelps looked at her a moment, then tilted her head in acknowledgement. Mentally, she was already composing her resignation letter.

"Yes." She agreed. "It certainly is."

And then she began to walk away.

Marion Cedar hurried after her friend. "You don't think she's right do you?"

Phelps opened the door to the solitary wing and the chanting was loud again. "HAGGS! HAGGS! HAGGS!"

"Yes, I rather think she is." Phelps said tiredly. "You know, I think I've had enough of this kind of work. I think I might take an interest in something else. Education, say, or perhaps an orphanage."

"I'd better shut the door." Marion said. "This chanting will only make her worse."

Abruptly the chanting ceased.

The warden and her deputy looked at one and other.

Then, faintly at first, another chant was taken up.

"RED! RED! RED!"

The warden smiled softly. "I heard we were getting another new prisoner in today."

Marion reached for the door.

"Leave it." Phelps told her. "Let her hear. Let's go and welcome our new guest."

Behind them, Haggs raged, beating at the door with her fists, trying to force her way through the tiny window.

"NO! This is MY prison! THIS IS MY PRISON!"

250

Three months had passed since Gadget returned home.

There was a crisp layer of snow on the ground of Central Park, thick enough to cover the grass but too thin to make snowballs, unless you happened to be a mouse.

"Aw, come on Gadget! You said you wanted to!" Dale yelled from behind an inch high wall of snow.

Gadget shook off the remains of the last snowball that hit her on the nose. She was getting creamed.

"We've been playing for half an hour, Dale!" She complained.

Dale stuck his tongue at her and wiggled it. "Having fun takes practice, Gadget! I've had a lot more than you and Chip and that's why I'm winning for once!"

Gadget sighed and pitched her last remaining snowball at the tip of Dale's waggling tongue. Dale ducked, but the snowball clipped the pompom on the top of his woolly hat and knocked it off. Dale turned and bent to retrieve it, his proudly lifted tail and associated anatomy presenting Gadget with a target too tempting to ignore.

With a girlish giggle Gadget scrambled to make another snowball, while being careful to not to present a similar target to Dale. Though she had scored ten points for Dale's hat, which counted as a headshot and should have been the highest score by the rules Chip had outlined, she had heard the chipmunks whispering between themselves and suspected that certain portions of her own anatomy scored a lot higher.

Dale seemed to take a long time about picking up his hat.

Gadget scampered forward to improve her aim and pitched her snowball, but Dale was too quick for her. The snowball, to Gadget's immense disappointment, missed.

Dale jumped up and began throwing snowballs back at her with both hands, one after the other in rapid fire.

Gadget squeaked in a mock alarm and fled. By her count Dale had scored at least thirty points before her retreat and, if she had the chipmunks private scoring system right, another fifty with the one that hit her afterwards.

"Aw, come back and play!" Dale called after her.

Gadget dusted herself off. Hot chocolate with Monty was sounding good about now.

"You aren't the type to quit just because you aren't winning are you?" Dale taunted.

Gadget pulled a face. Dale, of all people, had just suckered her! But she wasn't the type to quit just because she was losing, which she was, even if Dale had avoided the word.

Just as she had decided there was no graceful way to bow out of it, a length of silk line, the kind the Rangers used on rescues, dropped to the ground behind Dale.

Gadget stifled a laugh.

"Say, are you playing or not?" Dale called out, oblivious to the scene playing out behind him.

On a branch high above him, Chip had secured the other end of the line and was preparing to descent to the ground behind Dale for a surprise assault.

"PISTACHIO!" Chip yelled and jumped off the branch.

Chip descended to the ground in one go and began pelting Dale from behind the moment he landed.

Gadget watched the desperate battle play itself out in a flurry of snow.

When they began rolling around on each other and through Dale's arsenal of snowballs and his defensive wall, even Gadget gave up trying to keep score.

Thinking about which colour marshmallows she would like with her hot chocolate, Gadget climbed the stairs back to the tree house.

Monty had been watching from the front door, holding a mug of Stilton soup, traces of which clung to his moustache.

"That offer of hot chocolate still good, Monty?" Gadget asked.

"Put the milk on the stove a minute ago, when Dale tagged you with that last snowball." Monty replied, without giving the slightest sign he had seen where the snowball hit. "While I'm thinking of it, a post card arrived for you today, from California. It's on the kitchen table, next to your mug."

"California?"

Monty lifted a bushy eyebrow at her. "Friend of yours on holiday, Gadget-luv?"

"Maybe."

In the kitchen Gadget poured the hot chocolate and since she had seen enough of the colour white for a little while, topped it with pink marshmallows. She picked up the card as she waited for the marshmallows to melt, which was how she liked it, and looked at the picture on the front.

It was a picture of the Hollywood sign. Someone had drawn a tiny circle over the bar of the "H". Gadget turned the card over.

On the back of the card, someone had glued a picture that was worth a thousand words.

Four young children, two boys and two girls, the eldest no older than four, were seated at a table in a diner with several large platters of omelettes on cucumber slices in front of them. From their expressions, all their birthdays might have come at once. In the background a banner ran across a window with a panoramic view. The banner read: "Grand Re-opening!"

The view from the window brought back childhood memories for Gadget. It was a view of Hollywood as might be seen from a mouse-sized restaurant hidden in the Hollywood sign itself; a restaurant such as the restaurant where Geegaw had treated his young daughter to a breakfast of omelette on cucumber, a very long time ago.

Gadget smiled. The message, in clumsy, childish writing that was nonetheless still likely beyond any of the children in the photograph, read: "Tommy, Danny, Silvia and Sally say – Thank you for rescuing our Mom!"

Gadget finished her hot chocolate thoughtfully. Then she got up and went back to the front door and looked down to where Monty had finished tying Chip and Dale back to back and was busily building a snowman around them.

"Now, which of you is going to be a good boy and bite down on the bean that's going to be our snowmunk's nose?" he was asking.

"Hey, Monty!" Gadget called down as she mentally pronounced Monty the winner of their snowball fight.

Monty looked up. "Yes, Gadget?"

"I'm going to take the Laughing Dove up for a test flight. See how she handles in cold weather."

Monty waved to her. "Be careful, Gadget-luv."

Gadget waved back and turned away.

Below Monty resumed his lecture on gentlemanly conduct. "You boys concentrate on the importance of chivalry in sporting events and I might just untie you before our snowmunk melts."

The Laughing Dove was the replacement for the irretrievably smashed Ranger-plane. It had been named with Geegaw's old airplane, "The Screaming Eagle", in mind but given the nature of their rescue work naming it after a bird of prey had seemed inappropriate. "Screaming" on the other hand had seemed entirely too appropriate. Some might have said it was tempting fate, even.

Gadget had planned a long holiday after her misadventures, but after barely a week she had discovered many of the things she had regretted not doing while she was inside a cell brought her less pleasure than the hard work she would normally have been doing instead. Little by little, with a little help from her friends, she had learned to pace herself and was enjoying the best of both worlds.

Her inventions seemed the better for it. The extra time she took to think, rest and even play seemed to have matured her gift for invention and the Dove was the first clear sign of it.

A welded steel frame formed the backbone of the graceful fuselage, which was covered with a white plastic Gadget had harvested from two and half bleach bottles. Halfway along each gull-shaped wings was a rigid helium blimp, each one half the size of the fuselage. There were two propellers, one above the point where the wings met the fuselage and one at the back of the aircraft below the tail.

Gadget patted the side of the plane as a human would pat a faithful steed and let herself into the flight deck. She affixed the postcard, snapshot side up, to the instrument panel in more or less the position that a now lost photograph of Geegaw had occupied on the old Ranger-plane.

She reached beneath the dashboard and flipped a hidden switch to enable the electronics before starting the engine. Unlike the Ranger-plane the Laughing Dove had an enclosed cockpit, so she didn't trouble to put her goggles in place before powering up the engines and releasing the brakes.

The Dove, perfectly named for a symbol of freedom, soared into the wild blue yonder.

Gadget, free as a bird, grinned and took it higher.

6


End file.
